As They Appear
by Materiel
Summary: A Mercenary comes across a group of raiders toying with a family. When only the daughter survives he decides to take her to where they were heading: New Vegas.
1. Thoughts

Watching it unfold from afar made the situation feel fabricated. The raiders moved like they always had; nervous ticks jerking their bodies around in comical fashion. It was a wonder that any of them could hold a firearm without firing it by accident, just as curious was the ability to avoid stabbing themselves or their wastelander captives before it was time. They moved with such confident swagger—one that every soul in the Mojave had seen—that after a few years it all began to seem rehearsed. Imagine: a group of blood-thirsty chem-addicted raiders maintaining their 'I'm-gonna-screw-with-you-before-I-rape-and-kill-you-infront-of-your-loved-ones' demeanor through organized practice. These were the thoughts that the Mojave sun baked into your brain after you'd been there too long. The thoughts they all had, but rarely shared.

It was a family or at least what was left of one. The father, the alpha of the pack, had done his best to protect his family. Actually, the man probably begged for their lives and was promptly rewarded with being smacked with his own arm. A hatchet was the tool of choice; severing his arm at the shoulder before one of the raiders beat him over the head with it. The group laughed so hard they should have lost any semblance of bladder control. One did, all over the father's twitching and contorting body. The two females rounded out the family, both clinging to one another as the attention came to them. The issue with having breasts meant that this was not going to be quick. The man had been humiliated, but he would be dead soon. His torment was finished. Women on the other hand, would be raped and mutilated, but they would not die.

The group was circling now, taunting the women with blades as long as an arm; the one responsible for hacking the man's arm off was busy cleaning his tool with his tongue. Though their armor was thrown together with tape and nails, it was as threatening as a frenzied Deathclaw to the untrained eye. The mother sprung into action; through the scope it was impossible to make out her words, but the younger female took off running. Fear was a powerful motivator and combined with a healthy dose of epinephrine it meant that the girl was going to be running for awhile. She was lucky. She didn't see the combat knife jammed into the back of her mother's throat or how much flesh it tore off when it was jerked back. Under normal circumstances she would have been carried quite a way in her terror, but she would have been caught by the drug-buffed assailants.

Complexity grew out of the fact that she was rushing his way. A hundred yards might have been good enough if his hide was better constructed, but eventually she was going to trip right over his barrel. Calculations tore through his brain as fast as possible: wind, distance, target speed—the works. She was a goddamn athlete—he was going to be forced to take the shots. With all of the variables taken into account he squeezed the trigger five times—expending every round housed in the magazine under the blanket of relative silence. They were perfect shots; each one striking the t-zone and resulting in a satisfying spray of blood, flesh and bone. The bodies crumpled over without incident—each one dying before they struck the ground.

"Hey! Slow down." Dirt flew everywhere as the man stood. A blanket lined with local plant-life and caked in dirt sent debris flying every which way. His estimations had been correct—the woman barreled into him.

His rifle dropped and he found himself holding her while he staggered back. She kicked and screamed, beating her fists against his chests while she fought for freedom. The terror that gripped her had yet to release and though he looked nothing like the raiders that had executed her family she considered him to be one regardless.

"Get off, don't touch me!" Grunting and groaning, she jammed whatever she could wherever she could. Heels slammed repeatedly into the ground, trying to jam her heels into his feet. Her fists persisted, rising from his chest to attempt to hit him in the face. And the squirming; she writhed like a fish out of her. "Get off of me. LET GO!"

The screaming was the worst of it. She conjured sounds that reminded him of hell; that little fictional place he'd read about in books. Had she been chanting some demonic oath with guttural noises he wouldn't have been able to tell the difference.

The pair went to the ground and before long he found himself rolling across the rocky ground with her. Order was established once he was on top and capable of utilizing the height and weight advantage he had over her. His pelvis pinning hers to prevent to the majority of the squirming, he pressed his palm across her nose and held her in place while his other hand reached for his rucksack. The woman was fuming now, trying her absolute hardest to push him up and off her. Knees were particularly dangerous, jamming into his thighs and hips; it was only a matter of time before she struck home.

"Fine—if you don't want to cooperate." A steady was retrieved from the sack and forced on her. He forced her to inhale all of it.

The writhing stopped. Her legs remained still. She simply stared at him, the rise and fall of her chest the last piece of the puzzle that eventually began to return to normal. Exhaustion set in immediately and the woman found her eyes rolled into the back of her head before she drifted off into unconsciousness.

"Just great," Breathing heavily he rolled onto his back and stared up into the sky. "Just fucking great."

It was some time before he did anything about what he had dubbed 'sleeping beauty.' She hadn't budged in her sleep, her body seemingly too tired to muster the strength to adjust for a more comfortable position. With the downtime afforded to him he was able to take inventory and clean up after himself. Every spent shell casing was plucked out of the dirt and stuffed into a section of his rucksack. Before long there was no trace that he was even there, except for the five corpses littering the path up to where he stood and the woman was sleeping. The bodies had been deemed secondary. Raiders died all the time in the Mojave, seeing a group of them on the side of the road with parts of their faces missing wouldn't upset or confuse anyone. Still, normalcy prevailed.

The bodies were searched, thoroughly. Nothing of any consequence was found, though a few packs of cigarettes would manage to pay for supplies in trade the next time he was town. None of the dead raiders had the proper shoe size for an extra pair of boots either. All in all, a tremendous waste of time that would probably generated less than a hundred caps. Turning made him want to utter the last few words he spoke.

"You know how to use that?" He gestured towards the 10mm pistol aimed at his chest.

She was shaking. "All I have to do is squeeze the trigger." Her aim drifted from one shoulder to the other, each time a result of her fighting off the exaggerated sway."

"That's true. You need to hold it steady first." Mockingly, he moved his head with the pistol, a wide curve that took them both side to side.

"Stop it!" She held the gun properly with two hands and shoved it forward towards him.

"Were those your parents back there?" He hadn't the chance to get that far and search their bodies while she was asleep. The bodies were still there, the creatures of the Mojave not yet having the chance to see how good the pickings were. "What the hell is your name, anyway?"

The shaking only grew more intense. "Angelita." She softened at the mention of her parents and slinked down to the ground, the gun held in her lap.

"How old are you to still be traveling with your folks?" Genuine curiosity, albeit misplaced since her parents' blood still stained the ground. While he inquired he pushed forward and eventually took hold of the pistol while it sat in her lap. A quick snatch was all it took.

"Nineteen." Angelita hugged herself, the shaking persisting.

"You're addicted. One hit was all it took, huh?" The backlash of using drugs was something he had experienced before—the shaking, her eyes watering and the inability to function as she told her body; they were all signs that she was suffering from withdrawal. "Fastest I've ever seen."

"Am I going to die?"

"No, you're not going to die. You just need some more _steady_ or a doctor. Doctor is a little ways north from here, but you're not gonna be able to make it like this." Another inhaler was lifted from one of his pockets and tossed into her lap. "Go ahead."

She fingered about the inhaler carefully before using it in his entirety—a true fiend. Breathing proved difficult the second time around; her body very nearly going into convulsions before she finally calmed and the shaking subsided.

"Who are you?" The inhaler was discarded, thrown to the ground in disgust.

"Call me Adam." Adam reached over and picked up the discard inhaler. It was another trace that someone capable had managed to put down the group of raiders, something he didn't want anyone to find. "You don't seem too broken up about your dead folks over there."

"My mother told me that they wouldn't always be with me. That one day they'd go away and God would look over me." She hadn't looked up at him once since the pistol was in her hands. "I know what life is like here… but I believe what they told me."

"Yeah, but…"

"I miss them." She choked back tears and fought off the urge to sob. Solace was found somewhere—somewhere she couldn't hope to explain to Adam.

"Right, let's get a move on. If you can keep up we'll be in Goodsprings in no time." The rucksack was lifted and slung around to his back where he made the proper adjustments to hold it up. It wasn't as large as one might have expected from a traveler, though this was partially explained by how often he hunkered down in a town or settlement. "You first, I need to keep my eyes on you."

With a nod she dusted off her clothes and intertwined her fingers. For a moment she fixed her mouth to speak but Adam simply pointed her in the proper direction. They walked adjacent to the road but not directly upon it. Unless you were traveling adequate protection there were dozens of ambushes set up along the old roads that claimed the lives of countless people. Adam had learned to tow the line between wilderness and the old highways, keeping an eye out for the ever dangerous creatures and the psychopathic humans. This time was just a tad bit different. There was a young woman walking in front of him, wearing the usual tattered clothes of a wastelander but her body proved to be distracting. Adam was no old man who would succumb to the smiles of a young vixen—he was young and virile, still freshly enamored with the thrills of sex. The clothing didn't cling to her body, but the outline of two, what he would call impressive, cheeks was not to be ignored.

He was fortunate that she was easy to look at as they spoke very little on that trip north to Goodsprings. Each time she began to stray from the path he had outlined in his mind he guided her back along and just as he had described, they reached the town in no time at all. It was depressing, like the rest of the Mojave; a combination of a hollowed husk of a pre-war town and the assumed apathy of a settlement just trying to scrape by without trouble. Angelita found one of her upper arms rudely squeezed while she was moving towards the Prospector Saloon.

"Wrong building." Adam tugged and turned left, heading up the room to the doctor's house. "If anyone asks you're my girlfriend. We're getting married."

"What?" From virtually no communication at all to the suddenly having to act as though they had a relationship. "O-Okay."

A few residents tending to their land were scattered about, each one taking a long hard look at Adam and then the girl that was being lead around by the arm. He didn't bother to return the looks, he was used to them. This wasn't the first time he'd passed through Goodsprings and it probably wouldn't be the last. Oddly enough, the smell of blood and the addition of a few corpses strewn about the town didn't bother him in the slightest. Angelita was not so oblivious to the carnage. The sight of twisted faces, some littered with holes, others sunken in made her want to vomit in the middle of the street. Adam pulled her onward towards the door.

"It's me again doc, open the damn door."


	2. Encounter

"Good as new." Mitchell's bedside manner was impressive, to say the least. Angelita was a kind young soul and meshed easily with the doctor who was simply happy to help her. He told jokes and laughed, genuinely. "So how'd you come across a man like that?"

"Can he hear us?" Angelita sat up on the bed and peaked out into the living room before setting her eyes back on the doctor. "I have family on the strip."

"Way up in New Vegas? Forgive me, but you don't look the part young lady." Mitchell sat back with his hands on his knees and narrowed his eyes at her. "You look like you'd fit right in this town without anyone batting an eyelash."

"It's true!" She perked up for just a second, causing Adam to turn his head towards the room. Either hand was thrown over her mouth as she continued. "My father's brother lives there. He recruits talent—I can sing."

"Is that so? I'd love to hear it sometime." The doctor smiled while he sat back in his chair. "How and you don't owe me any caps?"

Angelita was excited. At that point in her life she had done nothing but live under the careful guidance of her parents, who decidedly dressed her in overly large clothing and muddied her face whenever possible. She was a gorgeous young thing, a curse that would attract the attention of any male that was equipped to mate with the female of the species. Mitchell understood such a thing and had already formed doubts about why Adam was being so kind to the young girl, but he set aside for the time being. True to her name, the little messenger carried a perfectly constructed tune. It was a Spanish song, one rich in religious undertones but nonetheless pleasant to the ears. Though her namesake had roots in the language and she was there, singing it proudly, Angelita couldn't speak it if she tried. The lyrics were recalled from memory—a soft song that her mother lulled her to sleep with each night when she was a young girl.

"Amazing," Mitchell clapped excitedly for her, even going so far as to stand up. "I'll have to make a trip to the strip once you're famous. Maybe I'll even hear you on the radio someday—you've got the talent for it all."

"You really think so?"

"Of course!"

"She'll have to get there first." Arms crossed, Adam lounged in the doorway and stared down over the pair. "You're awfully excited about a song old man; I'm surprised those ears still have use. Hell, you can't hear what I have to say half the time."

"Selective hearing, my friend." Mitchell turned to face Adam. "She's fine, but I'd suggest staying in town for the evening. She's tired."

"Is the building down the road still empty?"

"Yes, but,"

"Let's go, Angelita." Adam didn't bother letting the doctor finish, he already knew what he was going to say. There'd be an announcement that he had enough room to spare and he'd insist that she stay there. With his rucksack in hand he moved over to the young woman and took her hand. "Come on."

Angelita nodded and thanked the doctor again before they pushed out of the house and began the walk down the hill. Darkness was looming and he wasn't about to take an inexperienced wastelander through the darkness towards the strip. She was far too much of a liability to begin with, without even considering the fact that every raider from there to the horizon would want to throw her in chains and show her off.

An empty house was selected for the evening, one that still held every last amenity that the rest of the homes had, albeit a bit dirtier with no resident to clean it up. The original owner had probably been killed by geckos or bandits—whatever the reason was none of their concern. It was a simple home: a bathroom, a kitchen and bedroom, barely any place to stretch your legs. Nevertheless, it was better than holing up in an abandoned bus with land mines set around in case someone decided to try and sneak up on you.

"Are you hungry?" Adam inquired while he tossed his things down in the bedroom and began to peel layers of clothing off of his body. Most of it was of his own creation, notably the Sheriff's duster that was lined with Kevlar and other body armor variants. The signature star had been stitched over, less he incur unnecessary attention for being some sort of figurehead for law. He stripped down all the way to his pants, which appeared to be coming off when he pushed them down but only so much as to clear the debris in his waistline.

"A little."

Adam rummaged through his things and pulled out a small bottle of purified water along with an Iguana on a stick. Both were set out for her. "Enjoy."

It wasn't her mother's cooking but she ate and felt sated. She took her time, watching Adam's movement through her bites as he dusted off the bed as best he could and used his duster as a barrier between himself and the mattress. There was only one bed in the house and he was taking up the vast majority of it—though all the same he appeared to be doing his best to take up residence on one side. Even his duster, which she admittedly would rather sleep on than the old mattress was stretched out across, leaving just enough space for her to curl up on. It was with hesitation that she finished the small dinner and made her way over to the bed. In no way did she exercise the need to get comfortable when she slid onto the mattress and placed her back to him. Sleep would not come easy for her; each time she closed her eyes the image of dead bodies flooded her memories, which quickly became intermingled with the last images of her father and her mother's demand that she run. Eventually, she turned to face Adam, bare chest and all, and curled up tightly against him.

The very second light began to creep in through the windows Adam woke up. His eyes shot up and the grog that overwhelmed most people was fought off immediately. Three seconds and he was wide awake, ready to move and kill if need be. It was a result of constantly sleeping with one eye open; he learned to get the most out of his sleep without becoming as vulnerable as Angelita was at that very moment. She'd gone from trying to touch him as little as possible to sleeping against to practically clawing at his sides to get closer. There were dry spots on his chest, salty tears having been spilled over the course of the night.

"Time to go." Adam pulled away from her and nudged her awake. The moment her eyes open he pulled away from her and began to dress. By the time she was just standing to stretch, Adam was ready to walk out of the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Actually," Adam paused with his hand on the doorknob and turned to her. "What was that about you being a singer on the strip? They don't just let anyone get on the strip, you've got to have the caps to be there and you don't look like you've got the caps."

"Well," She cleared her throat. "My uncle isn't actually on the strip… he's in Freeside—but I'm supposed to sing for him there. If we can get enough caps up we were going to go to the strip and try to make it big there."

"So you're traveling across the Mojave to become a famous singer in Vegas? Most people would say you don't have a ghost of a chance." Adam squeezed the doorknob and twisted, pulling the door open. "Let's go."

Angelita hesitated. Her parents had made it sound like such a sure thing that she had never thought to question whether or not she wouldn't be able to make it. The doctor, a complete stranger, was enamored with her voice, but now she was questioning whether or not it would all be worth it. Somewhere she found the strength to stand and made her way out of the door with Adam followed behind her. For a moment she waited for him to direct her to where they were going, but he took the initiative and simply began to walk.

"A few rules, Angelita." Adam began to walk north out of Goodsprings, his eyes on the horizon and the long journey that was ahead of them. "You're going to have to do everything I say, no matter how much you may want to say no. You say no and I leave you on the side of the road for the first asshole to come pick up."

Adam paused and turned back to her. "Actually that's the only rule."

A small shrug and they were walking again. Silence set between the two of them while they moved through the Mojave. It was the perfect time to be on the move—the cool night air hadn't been overwhelmed by the searing heat yet. It'd arrive soon, but they'd be able to cover a fairly large amount of ground before dehydration became an issue.

"Why are you doing this?" With Goodsprings well out of sight and Angelita doing her best to keep up with Adam she inquired. "You could've left me while I was asleep. You could've done that twice come to think of it."

"I'm not doing this for free. If your uncle's gonna get you an entertainment spot somewhere in Freeside, then he's bound to have a decent amount of caps." It was that simple for Adam.

It made Angelita's heart sink just a bit. The man hadn't exactly attempted to endear himself to her and any hope that she might have had that he was merely being a good person was thrown out of the window. It was as her parents had taught her: everyone in the wasteland was out for themselves or their family—not for you. She accepted his terms and didn't bother getting upset; there wasn't any point in doing so.

Shockingly enough the trip was uneventful for the first hour or so, though Adam was clearly displeased with the slow pace he had to endure with escorting her. By time they reached Whittaker Farmstead everything was turned upside down.

Adam reached behind him and grabbed Angelita by her shirt, tugging her down to the ground behind a wide rock once the farmstead came into view. The plan was to take a wide circle around it from the south and move into the network of streets that led to Vegas and the outer-lying neighborhoods, but there was a incomparable wrench thrown into the plan—a Deathclaw. Massive, stronger than any group of men and perfectly capable of becoming the top of the food chain under the right circumstances, the creature was busy tearing into a grip of unfortunate Powder Gangers. Adam pulled his rifle from around his shoulder and propped it up against the car, getting a better look through his scope.

The men were being torn apart; limbs ripped from their places with shocking ease. One of them men was even ripped in two—legs flying one way while his torso thudded against the small house where the men had come out of. Angelita screamed. It was one quick screech that was silenced by Adam jamming his palm over her mouth, but it was enough. The wall of muscle and death, caked in blood and flesh, jerked its head around in their direction and stared.

Adam was lined up a shot, using the car to steady himself while he fished around the back of his rucksack to retrieve a more potent weapon. Even with all five shots in the magazine delivered on target, it was no guarantee that the Deathclaw would go down. Hell, it wasn't even a guarantee that it would make the creature stammer and give him time to reload.

The exchange lasted all of ten seconds. Rather than go for the head as he had done with the raiders, Adam unloaded onto one of the Deathclaw's legs. The entire magazine was delivered on target, rendering the massive, muscular creature to a staggered limp—but it was still charging towards them, even more intensely than it had been before. The grenade followed; the small explosive was tossed right into its path and detonated. Adam pulled Angelita into the side of the car with him, shielding her from the debris that kicked up albeit not from the mess of dirt that showered them. However, it wasn't dead—simply reduced to dragging its body across the desert floor and eventually up to the car. Angelita ran. No manner of strength could be mustered to prevent her from fleeing with the massive beast hulking over the car and reaching over for them.

Adam pulled a combat knife from a sheath along the small of his back and jammed the blade into the Deathclaw's eye socket. He twisted and grinded the blade until the hilt was pressing against the socket itself and the creature was left as nothing more than a twisting, writhing mass. Rifle in hand, he took off in the direction that Angelita had ran and found her cowering behind a pair of discarded boxes. Just as he had done in Goodsprings, he took her by the upper arm and lifted.

"Let's go."


	3. Storm

The sand got everywhere no matter how hard you tried to keep it out. Adam could feel the tiny particles searing their way into his flesh over and over again. Each nook and cranny was assaulted by the storm; even prepared as he was splitting his gear between two people meant that they were both vulnerable. To her credit, Angelita did not complain, though Adam figured she had no other choice—opening your mouth was not something you wanted to do in the middle of a sandstorm.

The pair had made it as far as to be able to see the Grub n'Gulp before the storm came rolling in from the west. Deceptively fast, it didn't allow them to seek proper shelter; they were relegated to using the hallowed remains of a Las Vegas tour bus. The old, rusty, sand blasted metal was the least comfortable surface Angelita had ever slept on—this much she was sure of. Had the windows managed to stay intact the storm might have been bearable, but they were long gone, likely scavenged or destroyed decades ago. The protection they did have came directly from Adam's rucksack; the one Angelita had become increasingly curious about. There was a single pair of goggles that were immediately strapped to her face and a rag, moistened with water, which he tied around the rest of her face and ears. Adam only had two scarves to work with for himself, but he managed. The element that she couldn't quite understand in the rush was when he broke open a small vial and began stuffing the contents into each of their noses.

From there they simply huddled into the corner of the bus and waited the storm out. The sounds of the storm were deafening, even with their ears protected. To Angelita it sounded as if the bus was being pelted by bullets from a thousand guns and every so often something much stronger would collide with the broadside of the bus. A rock the size of a fist slammed into the bus and thudded. A rusted piece of jagged metal sliced through the side of the bus like a machete through an infidel. The storm settled eventually and Adam began to survey their surroundings.

Adam untied the scarves at the back of his head and reached into his bag. "Here, take this." A bottle of water was tossed into her lap. "Clean up as best you can."

Cleaning up was just as difficult as dealing with the storm in the first place, if not more. Traversing the Mojave meant that you were going to get all kinds of dirt and grime in your boots, in your waistline and probably down the back of your shirt. Not being inside during a sandstorm meant that every little crevice that you thought was secure was going to be invaded and saturated. The small bottle of water wouldn't nearly be enough to handle the amount of crap that they had been subjected to. It wasn't even enough for Angelita's hair.

"I don't think this is going to be enough." She unscrewed the cap and stared down the humble contents of the bottle. "It's everywhere."

"Make it work." As he had before in the empty house, Adam was pulling off layers of clothing and doing his best to garner some comfort. The amount of sand made it feel like a second skin; his boots were on tight and pants were stuffed into them, yet he could still feel a substantial amount between his toes. "We're moving in five."

_Five minutes?_ There was no semblance of privacy and Angelita didn't want to even bring the notion up with him. With her back to him, she pulled her boots off and banged the back of the pair against a hard surface. The Sahara itself poured out of her boots.

It went without saying that between the thighs was the worst place for both of them. One misplaced piece of sand there meant that walking the rest of the way to Freeside would be the most uncomfortable miles anyone had ever experienced. Their dwindling supply of water was focused there—Adam was much more comfortable with dropping his pants and bathing his manhood in water, whereas Angelina did her best to prevent anything from having the slightest peek at her.

One shouldn't have expected her to be so bold as to stand before him naked and casually clean herself, but beyond her one bout of weakness with sleep the burst of trust she had for him was beginning to come into question. The kind doctor didn't appear to be too fond of him, which made her question why they didn't stay in the comfort of a clean house. These were all thoughts she didn't bother sharing—the man was carrying a handful of guns and was kind enough to escort her to Freeside, even if he was doing it for money.

"We'll head over to the rest stop and see if they've got any clean water. Maybe some food, too." Adam looked through the empty window frame on either side of the bus before he stepped off and started to walk.

Angelita hadn't quite finished using the bottle of water when Adam began to move. She didn't have anything to tell the time but she was sure that hadn't been five minutes. "Wait!"

Despite being further off of the road than he had originally planned to be, nothing happened. Every so often he'd glance over his shoulder to make sure she was following him and that in turn nothing was following them, but there was never anything there. Not even a small radscorpion irritated with the fact that they were crossing over its territory. No mole rats overtly curious in what odd smells were coming from his rucksack—not even a raider interested in what they were carrying with them. The entire trip to the Grub n'Gulp was one boring, uneventful walk that culminated with Adam standing face to face with Lupe.

"Do you have any water? _Clean_ water." Adam pulled out the cigarettes he had scavenged the day before and set them down on the stand. "How much for these?"

"Scared of a little radiation, hmm?" Lupe picked up one pack of cigarettes and inspected the brand, then made sure the rest matched. "Six of these get you three bottles."

"Three bottles clean?"

"Three bottles clean."

Adam mulled over the decisions for a few seconds before he reached forward and grabbed three bottles of water. Exchanging death for life was harder than it should have been—there was never any shortage of stress that made someone want to light a cigarette. With water in tow, Adam moved on to the next merchant and looked over

"Squirrel on a stick?" The question was posed to Angelita while Adam focused in on what was there. He'd already tossed a few caps onto the shelf and took his own. It wasn't the best meat he'd ever had in his life, but it did the job like everything did.

Angelita nodded. "Please."

In a moment Angelita was presented with a squirrel on a stick and a bottle of purified water and the pair began to move away from the rest stop, looking every bit the part of tourists who spent too much money on their tokens. Normally, Adam would have stayed at the stop long enough to finish the small meal and even take some time to rest but the storm had set them behind schedule even if it just was a few hours. There was nothing worse than being caught out in the Mojave with your pants down—walking all day only to realize that you were standing in the middle of no man's land when it night fell was akin to such a position.

"You're a good luck charm, you know that?" The usual silenced that sat comfortably between them was broken and strangely enough it was Adam who was speaking. "I've been in this sand pit my entire life and it's never been this quiet."

"What about that… thing?" Angelita was still busy with her squirrel on a stick, speaking in between bites.

"Well," Adam paused, a nod acknowledging that the one hiccup had indeed been a large one. "Yeah, there was that but I usually run into more trouble. There are gangs, fiends, raiders—even normal people like those two back there that'll try to take advantage of you."

"Maybe it's because of the NCR. Aren't they all over the place now?"

Adam laughed, genuinely amused. "They're all over the place, sure, but you have you ever seen any of them flex their muscles? They're a presence, not a force."

"What do you mean?"

"Where were they when your family was chased down?" Adam glanced back to Angelita. "What about when Caesar decides to send a raiding party to one of their outposts? You think a handful of rangers are going to stop an entire brigade?"

"Then why is the NCR still in charge here?" The worry in Angelita's voice began to grow. The 'truth' that Adam was sharing with her made the world seem even more dangerous than it already was.

"They've got raw numbers; plenty of poor bastards being shipped out here every day. If the NCR really wanted to do something they'd gather all of their forces and march over the dam." Contempt wiggled its way into his words. "Instead of sitting with their thumbs up their asses the entire time—something's gonna blow up soon, just you wait."

The words were essentially jabs to Angelita, each one pounding at her chest and stomach, stirring up the status quo and turning her world upside down. The fact that the Mojave Wasteland was dangerous was an absolute that could not be disputed, but for some the violence appeared to be toned down once the NCR began to establish itself. To the more perceptive eye it was an organization that had a reach that was far exceeding its grasp. Sure, the caravans were thoroughly protected but the small settlements and towns that dotted the Mojave were constantly under the threat of all sorts of dangers whether it be raiders or creatures. A single ranger patrolling every other day would never be enough to adequately protect them.

Angelita broke the newly established silence. "What'll happen then?" She'd been going over it in her head and couldn't find a reasonable solution.

"Hell if I know." Adam shrugged.

"What will you do if the NCR has to leave?"

"People were here before the NCR came and they'll be here if they leave. We'll deal with it, that's what we do, Angelita." His tone was firm. "Besides, if you can get on the strip I hear it's relatively safe compared to anywhere else."

"Do you think we'll get on the strip?"

"Just don't lose your voice."

It was as much as they'd talked since they began traveling together. Even with the sun barreling down upon them Angelita felt cold—cold enough to warm herself in her arms and squeeze, each palm running up and down her arms while she followed Adam forward. The distance between the two of them shriveled until it was nothing more than a foot or so of space between them. The luck that Adam spoke of carried them all the way north to the Freeside gates, past a few meandering NCR patrols and traveling merchants but never any fiends or raiders. Adam had been joking about her being a good luck charm, but with each mile that had been put behind them and nothing happening—not so much as stepping on a sharp rock, he gradually found himself wondering whether or not it was the truth.


	4. Innocent

Freeside, even with the truckload of issues she'd soon discover, was a word apart from the dread of the Mojave—for Angelita. Every community had its own personality that made it unique, which was also what made Freeside so odd. Those that had control of the area emulated one another from head to toe. Angelita was amused with every little ounce of affection the men set aside for their hair and how they walked, even how they dressed was something she'd never seen before. Adam was less than enthused to be dealing with, as he put it, 'a group of wannabes led by some moron with an accent that only got off of his ass to get in and out of bed.' Just as they'd been on the way to see out her uncle, Adam decided to backtrack and made his way back to the outer layer of Freeside. Without saying as much, he had business to attend to at Mick & Ralph's.

"You still let that piece of shit Dixon hang around outside?" Adam was addressing Mick inside of the store's hidden compartment.

"Every time you come around someone asks me the same thing once you're gone." Mick spoke with a smile while he leaned against a wall. "They go on and on about me helping a—"

"Keep it down," Adam pointed a thumb over his shoulder to the front of the store. Angelita was sitting in chair in front of Ralph. "Little angel over there doesn't know."

"What's the deal with her anyway? I could've sworn you said you didn't want to deal with the ladies unless they were getting paid by the evening." Mick looked over Adam's shoulder to get a better view of Angelita.

"There's some caps in it, should be enough to put me over the top."

"Yeah, well, just don't let one of those Omerta boys get an eye on her. She'll be gone before you know it."

"I'm aware." Adam took turned around to check on Angelita, who was busy looking at a calendar and globe in sheer boredom. "I haven't said anything to her but I'm assuming this uncle's at the Atomic Wrangler, should be an interesting evening."

"Just don't set the place on fire, alright?"

"Never do," Adam shifted and set his eyes on the special inventory. "You manage to get your hands on what I was asking for?"

"Yep, the Omertas have some morons for lieutenants nowadays, didn't realize that the documents were doctored." Mick moved to the cell door and pulled out a key. With the door opened, he retrieved an Anti-Materiel rifle in pristine condition and handed it over to Adam. "It's a heavy son of a bitch."

"Yes it is." Adam took the twenty pound behemoth and looked it over before handing it back to Mick. "I'd love to take it with me now, but a rifle that size… too obvious."

"What about the one you're already carrying?"

"I was actually hoping to leave this with you too and pick up some other stuff before I head out. You mind if I left some things here? Don't trust anyone at the Wrangler."

Adam and Mick went on discussing terms for a few minutes. Angelita couldn't sit still another second and started meandering around the frontend of the store. Ralph, busy with work, didn't notice or didn't really care that she was inspecting the store's inventory. When Adam did finally return he was without the rucksack that she had been hoping to get a peek inside of for the past day or so. In fact, the rifle she had been used to staring at while they walked was also gone.

"Where's your gun?"

"Perceptive, aren't we?" Adam smiled, but gave her no answer. "What's your uncle's name?"

"James."

Halfway out of the door Adam stopped and stared at Angelita. "Are you sure your uncle's name is James?"

"That's what my mother told me. That we'd get to Freeside and I could sing."

"As far as I know James doesn't have any family besides his sister—you sure this uncle wasn't just a family friend? Someone that your parents knew might have owed them a favor." Adam hadn't budged from the doorway.

"I… guess?" Angelita truly didn't know. Her voice was supposed to be their ticket out of the wastes and into a community where they didn't need to constantly worry about their immediate safety. "Can we go see him?"

Adam was suddenly annoyed with the situation. The thought of getting a wad of caps over a simple escort job had blinded him to the obvious facts. If she really had an uncle that worked in a casino he probably would have been able to afford to pay a mercenary to escort his family across the Mojave—exactly what he had just done. Now, with his reputation, there was no guarantee that he was going to get any money out of the situation for which he was down caps for to begin with.

The first dent in Angelita's luck came through as they rounded the first corner outside of Mick & Ralph's. Poorly dressed, smelling of death and carrying an assortment of knives and hammers, a group of thugs rapidly approached the pair. Adam stopped and felt behind him—sure enough Angelita was pressing into his back and doing her best to use him as a shield.

They were twitching, every last one of them. The leader, at least the one Adam assumed was the leader, could barely hold his hammer straight while he fought off the urge to scratch his arms down to the bone. He came to the conclusion that they were all Dixon's customers, ones that he could convince to spend any shred of caps they came across on his chems. It wasn't too farfetched that he had mentioned to one or two of them that Adam was back in town and had a bunch of caps on him or any lie he could conjure up to create this situation.

"Why don't the three of you turn your skinny asses around and scurry off into the alley again?" Adam reached into his duster and curled his fingertips around his 10mm pistol. "Go tell Dixon I said hello, okay?"

Angelita was sure that Adam had lost his mind somewhere in between walking out of the store and standing where they were now. It had only been about thirty or seconds, but that was enough time for someone to get all of their wires crossed, wasn't it? She clung to the back of the duster for dear life, digging her fingernails into the rough leather while she kept her face planted against his back. She'd already seen them, there was no need to look at them again and make sure there was a trio blocking their way and likely trying to kill them.

"Just gonna stand there, eh?"

The ease in which Adam handled all three of the men spoke volumes to their state of mind; not a single one of them struck home in their wild flailing attempts to stab or bludgeon him. The first thug with a knife lunged forward and he simply stepped to the side, the cracks in the old street doing the job of tripping and sending him to the ground face first. Another weave of his body, as casual as the first, allowed the second thug to miss and be carried to the ground with all of his body's momentum. The third didn't fare as well as the first two—he was the only one of the bunch that Adam actually set out to hurt. The pistol, firmly in his grip beneath the duster, was yanked free and pointed down towards the oncoming thug's knee, at which point he pulled the trigger.

The howl that spilled from the thug's mouth was soul-crushing. It was a pain that one couldn't quite grasp unless they had experienced a bullet tearing through their body—and to the knee; he'd never walk the same way again. Adam wasn't bothered by the sight and neither was anyone in the immediate area—this was life in Freeside, outside of the strip. It was a more contained community than the Mojave at large, but it still held all the familiar charms of the dust-filled wasteland just a few feet away.

"Come on, before he decides to get up and try something new."

Embracing morbid curiosity was something Angelita couldn't bring herself to fight off, not with the thug writhing and squealing like a dying animal. It wasn't the worst wound she'd ever seen—accidents had generated more gruesome displays—but the fact that he twisted and squirmed, choking and gargling words, made her uneasy but unwilling to turn away. The way the blood took to the cracked and eroded streets, like any liquid would have, forced her eyes to follow every dip and turn it took while it spread out across the street. She would have stared all day and night had it not been for Adam grabbing her like always did

Protected by four walls the mood inside of Freeside was still somber; even with criers shouting about their employers the touch of the wasteland could be felt in the air. The getaway wasn't quite the getaway most people had expected. Nevertheless, Adam trudged on with Angelita, absorbing the stares from numerous kings and ignoring those that sounded more and more desperate for their business. The Atomic Wrangler was their present destination, a location Adam knew all too well. For her own sake, Adam stuck to the right side of the road, careful not to gesture any movement towards the Van Graffs. Weapons were always appreciated, but he had learned a lesson some time ago that a man parted with his weapons as a dead as one who taunted a Deathclaw.

Though a guard stared, it was Francine Garrett that greeted them. "Rooms are t—well, look who the hell it is. You've got some nerve walking back in here after that stunt you pulled. Brought a girl with you this time too, huh? Take her to James."

"Nice to see you too, Pat. Say, do you still…" Adam went through an elaborate display of finger poking and tongue undulating.

"Screw you."

Angelita stood behind Adam while he engaged the proprietor or at least one half of it. "What?"

"Nothing, just screwing with her until your 'uncle' comes around." Adam leaned against the bar, both forearms against the top while he eyed Francine. "That is, unless your lovely aunt over here decides to go get her brother."

Interestingly enough the fact that Patricia had been referred to as an aunt didn't bother her. In fact, one could say that anything that came out of Adam's mouth in the wrangler wasn't taken seriously to begin with—chalk it up to a long and color history he had within the confines. The request to retrieve her brother, however, was not completely unheeded. With business to be taken care of and a pretty girl standing by the door, there could have been a deal of sorts struck, or so went her line of thought. Whatever kept her from rounding up guards to throw Adam out of the casino is what made her retrieve James from the backroom. A few minutes after the request James showed up at the bar and immediately took to staring at Angelita, completely ignoring Adam's presence.

"How the hell did you get here?" James' voice was loud enough to attract everyone in the main room. "Where's your father?"

"Her parents are dead. Raiders, bandits—something like that," Adam interjected. "She isn't really your niece is she?"

"Who the hell let you in?" The distraction Angelita had presented meant that James was just now becoming aware of his surroundings, Adam included. "No. She's not a blood relative, but I had a few dealings with her parents."

"Last time I checked you two took any swinging dick with caps." Adam checked behind his shoulder to gauge Angelita's reaction.

Angelita was staring down at the ground, hands behind her back and squirming. It was an uncomfortable situation: her father and mother had convinced her that this was their salvation. A trek across the Mojave would ultimately allow them to meet long lost family and forge a better life for themselves and eventually her own family. When she finally reached her destination her parents were dead and the supposed uncle wasn't actually her family. Making matters worse was the fact that James looked far too young to be an actual friend of her father's—nothing made any sense and it made her nervous. The toe of her boots was thumped against the floor and she fought fiercely against the urge to stuff her fingers in her mouth to chew on her nails—though she did crack her fingers.

"Can I speak with you in the back, Adam?" James had lowered his voice to a whisper while he addressed Adam, his eyes still on the nervous Angelita.

"About?"

"Could you just get the hell in the backroom—it's important." He lowered his voice even further. "She doesn't need to hear this."

Adam furrowed his eyebrows and stared at James, waiting for him to blink and back down from such an out of character request. It never came and he found himself as confused as poor Angelita standing behind him. Without so much as a word to the young woman, Adam nodded and made his way to the backroom with James after hopping the bar. The guards seemed to jump in on the confusion as well; the one by the door pushed up from his post and was waved off by James whereas another two from the other side of the room received the same signal.

"What the hell is so important that I get to see what's behind the infamous locked door?" Adam was annoyed and wasn't bothering to hide it. "Secrets usually mean more work and rarely any caps to justify it."

"Look, I don't care where you found her; you need to get rid of her."

"I'm sorry, what?" Adam folded his arms across his chest. "Didn't you say you knew her folks? She's been going on and on about being some kind of singer."

"I don't care if her voice makes caps ran out of the goddamn sky, she can't stay here." The worry in James' voice and his face couldn't be faked. He was afraid. "Take her back wherever you got her and leave her there."

"You're going to have to make this make sense to me before I do anything." Adam shrugged his shoulders. "Or I could just leave her here, how about that?"

"This is serious. They were a goddamn family of runaway slaves, Adam."

"And?"

"Who the hell do you think has the most slaves in the region? The Legion!"

"Wait, wait, wait," Adam put his hands up and considered what he knew about the legion and slavery. "That doesn't make any sense—since when do they allow families to stay together?"

"They don't." James went pacing about the backroom, growing increasingly nervous the longer Angelita was in the casino. "It was like this: the father was reaching the end of his usefulness and didn't want to be put out to pasture, so he started forming a plan to escape. His master had the mother and the daughter. Apparently, the only reason the girl wasn't turned into a breeding cow was because she could sing. Sung songs to the legionaries before they went off to battle or some other crap—whatever she did, she was important and they went around begging anyone to help them."

"And you decided to help them out of the kindness of your heart?" Adam poked and prodded at the perceived holes in the story.

"Have you heard the girl sing? You put her in a clean dress and put her on stage—you wouldn't be able to count the caps people would pay to see her. New Vegas doesn't have a star—she'd be the first one."

"So you send her straight across the Mojave to rot?"

"It was the father's idea. I told him they couldn't stay here, not while things were so tense. They've got spies everywhere. Imagine having her on stage and a group of them walk in. We'd all be dead before we knew what the hell happened. So I told them to lay low."

"How would a star not attract unwanted attention?"

"Well. I was hoping to move onto the strip. I'd like to see the Legion take on Mr. House and win that one." James stopped pacing, he was still proud of the idea.

"So the girl knows who you are? She knew that you weren't her uncle?" Adam turned and began to walk to the door.

"Not as innocent as you thought, eh?"


	5. Liar

Adam burst through the door like a wild Brahmin. Eyes of an alpha male surveyed the main room and unfortunately couldn't find the beautiful woman that had trekked across the Mojave with him. He was not dissuaded; the strength he showed was accompanied by speed, which carried him over the bar top and straight out of the front door, blowing past the seedy guards in the most bombastic way possible. The door slammed behind him and he was out on the street, his head positioned down to the ruined intersection long before his body had made it all the way through the door. He caught of glimpse of the little liar while she rounded the corner, moving much faster than he thought her capable of. Apparently much more had been hidden besides her origins. Little care was afforded to his possessions. The rucksack was thrown onto the street just a few feet from the Silver Rush's entrance; he wanted as little weight holding him down as possible.

Fast as she might be, Angelita wasn't running with the same dogged determination that was yanking Adam through the street. Pride more than anything else had been laid on the slab and chopped into itty-bitty pieces, the knowledge that he had been duped by a pretty face was embarrassing. Angelita on the other hand had played her cards perfectly, just as her mother had told her to. She said, "If he doesn't try to rape you a man will believe anything he'll tell you. They want to protect a pretty girl." Without explicitly thinking as much Adam had followed the mantra to the finest letter. The chase moved one section of Freeside to the next with Angelita heading towards a group of burly looking men. The kind that would have likely dragged her into a back alley and left her there to rot once they were finished, but juxtaposed to another male and she hoped testosterone's ugly head would allow her to make a second escape.

"Stop!" Adam screamed. "Stop fucking running!"

Angelita whipped her head around instinctively to see that Adam was closing—the man was moving faster than the sandstorm that had encompassed them. It sent a chill through her spine and reached out to tingle in her fingertips. She'd been pursued before by her former master and it felt much the same. Had it not been for the piece of concrete jutting out of the ground she would have ran until she coughed up her lungs. From Adam's vantage it appeared that the ground had been pulled out from beneath her feet while she plummeted to the ground, her forearms the only thing preventing her from having bouncing her skull off of the pavement. Her knees hit just as hard while other pieces of the misshapen street stabbed their way into her legs and torso. It was a very real and intense pain, paralyzing enough that she was reduced to pulling her body away from Adam as he approached.

By now Adam had a pistol in hand, the 10mm held prominently in his right hand, displaying proper trigger discipline even while he raged on. Both hands would have been holding the pistol had it not been for his left hand reaching down to grab Angelita. The initial shock of the fall had run its course by time he reached her and he resorted to grabbing her by the ankle while she tried to crawl away. Nothing she said was discernible by any sort of ear; she was howling and groaning while she made virtually no progress. On the other hand, the odd display had in fact garnered the attention of those she had been running towards. Just as mother said, "rape or protect."

"Hey!" Of all the things to have survived in such great quantity it was a crying shame that mousse was the item. "The hell you doing to her?"

The king slinked forward, accompanied by two other men.

One was a king, pushing his practiced accent a new notches before THE King. "Looks like she doesn't want anything to do with you."

The third man wasn't entrenched in emulating a long dead icon. "How about you let her go?" He wore old football pads outfitted with spikes and reinforced with whatever scraps the Gun Runners tossed over the gate.

"Are you morons serious?" Adam stood straight and let Angelita's leg fall to the ground. The now free hand immediately moved to its proper position on the other side of the pistol. "How about you walk your silly asses back over to that gate and try to make some caps by giving each other a reach around?"

They didn't budge. _Great_. Heroes.

Angelita lay there on the ground, even more dirty than she had been five minutes ago, staring between the groups of men that had come to fight for her honor. It was an oddity. The Legion didn't have some petty conflict between its men. Not in front of slaves. But here, in what had been described to her as freedom, there didn't seem to be an ounce of respect. No notion of who was superior and who was subordinate. Either no one knew their roles or they chose to ignore them—even in the eyes of a slave girl it was chaos. Still, she was temporarily free if not prisoner between walls of testosterone. It saved her from clawing her nails off in a desperate effort to get the hell away.

"You probably haven't noticed but," The first king took center stage again. "You're in Freeside."

"And you look like a fucking idiot." Vitriol. Adam could have handled the situation peacefully with a few words but he was angry. His heart was pounding viciously against his chest. His index finger was retracting and moving across the trigger. "Like I said—why don't you go stand your ass over by that gate?"

Normally, that would have started a fight. The two kings didn't appear to be interested and the spiked linebacker followed suit. A little aggression would have made shooting them easier.

"Look," It was Mr. Football. "Why don't you just let her go?"

"She owes me something."

"I'm sure—"

"I'm sure we can't." Adam interrupted.

The man nodded, taking a few moments to drag his teeth over his upper lip. "The short of is she doesn't have to go with you if she doesn't want to."

The second king chimed in. "So how's about it? Do you want to go with him?"

Angelita had been hoping that they would start a brawl and she would be able to sneak by unnoticed. No such luck. With a few words she was suddenly the center of the conversation. Like a lost child she stared up at the men, blinking and looking at one then the other over and over again. Eventually the question resonated and she shook her head. Adam could have kicked her in the face right then and there.

"Bullshit." Adam responded. "She doesn't have an opinion."

"Yeah, she does." The first king kneeled next to Angelita.

Adam responded appropriately. He had been standing casually, but now he was aiming at the King while he kneeled. His index finger embraced the trigger and threatened to punish any additional movement towards her. "I wouldn't do that."

"No," The man with the gun pointed at his forehead gestured behind Adam. "I wouldn't do that."

Adam didn't move at first. It was the simplest of tricks and he'd actually managed to kill a fiend or two with such a maneuver. But he couldn't ignore the sound of loose debris kicking across the street. Had it not been so much of it he would have dismissed it as wind picking up. There were more kings coming. At least a half dozen that he could make out with his attention divided between what was in front of him and what was behind him.

"Fine," Adam eased up, stuffing the 10mm pistol in its proper place on his waistline. "Take her. I'll be back for her."

One of the men said something but Adam ignored her. He turned and walked through the group of kings—seven, he was off by one—and went to go check on the possessions he so carelessly chucked into the street. If he was lucky the thug or addict that was rummaging through his rucksack was too stupid to realize the value of anything besides the chemicals. Those things could be replaced without much incident, but screwing with his tools would definitely set him back in caps and time.

The Mojave Wasteland was a cruel, cruel mistress. Often she would show you all of her scars: the ravenous creatures, the corrupt authority and the endless deals gone awry. It was something you learned to accept. This time, she had dangled a sweet promise by her teeth and yanked it back at the last minute. Adam had been looking after Angelita for reasons beyond the 'instinct to protect.' One he wasn't particularly proud of.

"I need you to lean on the Queens," Adam went on. "They've got something of mine.

"Really?" Gloria smiled her devious smile. "Adam strolls back into Eden and he has the nerve to start making demands?"

"I didn't know you read."

"Spare me the trademark sarcasm." Gloria turned her back to him and continued. "This is about that girl, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Adam nodded. "Was supposed to get a few caps out of it."

"Still haven't paid that off, hm?" Gloria rubbed her hands together. "So let's get down to business, shall we?"

"You want someone dead?"

"No, we don't need you for that anymore."

"Then?"

"I want that little runaway of yours."

"That's why I'm here, Gloria." Adam responded, annoyed. "I was hoping you could make them cough her up."

"You think I don't know that?" The false image faded. "I know exactly who the little bitch is and you're going to sneak your ass into their little shit hole. Then you're going to find the pretty little princess and bring her back to be. Then I don't ever want to see you in this fucking store ever again, okay?"

"And what exactly do I get out of this arrangement?"

"A little bit of the caps you need," Gloria turned and stood face to face with Adam. "And I don't fuck your fucking balls off."

Adam walked out of The Silver Rush like a child that had been disciplined and assigned a laundry list of chores that he was sure should have been divided amongst siblings. He hadn't smoked a cigarette in almost five years but at that very moment he could have inhaled a carton and asked for another. He grabbed his things from the crate without saying a word to the guard and immediate made his way to Mick and Ralph's. Angelita on the other hand had climbed out of one hole and fallen into another. You see, The Kings weren't all that bad. Absolutely ridiculous hairstyles, yes, but the vast majority of the kings were stand up guys. That was also Angelita's issue. So while they gave her water and food that wasn't served on a stick, they began to ask questions she wasn't necessarily ready to answer.

"What did he want from you?"

That was one of them.

"What're you doing in Freeside?"

There was another.

"Where are you from?

That was the kicker.

Angelita mumbled and groaned an answer for each question while she had a mouthful of steak. "Iunher" Was how it sounded to the Kings.

The collective stare from the kings that occupied the room with her made her feel uneasy. In their rush to be gentlemen they had shirked the notion that there were always two sides to a story. Angelita, with all of her secrets, feared that they saw the error in their judgement.

"I…" Angelita finished eating and went on. "I'm from south of here."

It was an answer, vague, but an answer. The kings stared in response, waiting for her to be more specific.

"My mother and father were killed trying to get here."

True, sort of, but also something a clever child could have conjured up. Angelita tried again, this time with a lie. "That man," She didn't refer to Adam by name. "He took me and wouldn't let go of me. I got away from him for a few seconds and I ran."

She paused. "He did things to me."

Angelita went for the home run and knocked it clear out of the Mojave. She didn't provide details but the men in the room ate it up and asked for seconds. A gruff mercenary type had taken advantage of a pretty girl with an angel's voice? That was an entirely believable scenario. In fact, it was more common than any morally centered individual would have liked to think about. The small group came to a consensus without consulting the King. An oddity, but it didn't appear to be something that he would have taken issue with. The group, which was now made up of seven men, left the woman with one of the King's groupies and headed for Mick and Ralph's, where Adam had last been seen.

Adam wasn't there when they arrived. He'd stepped in to get what Mick was holding for him and left immediately after. He was still in Freeside, just exploring paths that the average resident would have never considered. The ruins that the people resided in were rarely stable enough to support the amount of humanity they'd been designed for. So when Adam climbed over debris and stacked cars, no one bothered to look up and see him—they were too used to not having to set their eyes that high up. Slipping into an unlocked window was easier than it should have been.

The building reeked of mousse. Under normal circumstances it wouldn't have bothered Adam to the point it was, but the smell was everywhere. Thick and pungent, it made him drag a scarf over his nose while he made his way down the halls. Expert care was taken to balance his weight and test out the floor with each step he took—just because it was night didn't mean that everyone was sleeping. While the rest of the Mojave had resorted to a time before lights were commonplace the area around Vegas was an entirely different world. Careful baby steps carried Adam past room after room until he finally came across women. The King's groupies.

"The King's a great guy," The blonde was enthusiastic. "You'll love it here."

"We just need to get you some new threads, sugar." The other woman plucked at the dirt-ridden hoodies Angelita wore. "Something that shows off ya' girl parts."

Angelita was a little worried when they started to remark about dressing. The women appeared to be older, but not too much older—she really couldn't tell, she was no accurate judge. Whatever they were, they were barely dressed. Their breasts weren't restricted at all, more flanked by thin veils that covered, something she couldn't quite imagine being comfortable. They'd been in their get up for hours, too, it appeared to be as much of a uniform as the same two or three outfits she saw all of the men wearing.

"Aren't you cold?" Angelita took note of the poking nipples.

"King keeps us warm." The blonde was fast with her answer. What was the word? Enthusiasm.

"I guess." Angelita and the other two women were sitting in the room beside the King's, on one of their beds. The King himself was downstairs in the theater, handling business as they had described it. "Are you comfortable?"

"What could be more comfortable than being free?" The blonde did a little shuffle, her parts jiggling in the sheer negligee.

She couldn't have invoked more thought in Angelita had she tried. "I see."

Silence wafted over the trio. Angelita was looking down at her nails. They were far different from the manicured perfection that the others were sporting. She had dirt and built up under her nails. The water that Adam had spared her was used for other parts of her body and she spent most of the time trying to pick it out while she was following him. Angelita had never cared much for her hair; her mother was usually the one who worried about it for her. The groupies caught on.

"Uhm," The brunette tried her shot at conversation. "Do you know your size? We could get you something right now."

"I think it's—"

"What about your hair?" The blonde dived back in, head first. "How about we do something with your hair?"

"My hair?"

"Your hair." She shifted her eyes to the brunette. "Right?"

"Sure! That's a great idea. The King likes—"

Adam inadvertently saved Angelita again. He hadn't checked whether or not the King was downstairs, he was in too much of a rush. The women were far too interested in their new playmate to notice that the doorknob was twisting; careful use of a bobby pin and another tool opened the lock. He lead with the pistol, the same 10mm that Angelita was far too accustomed to seeing, poking into the room to make sure none of the men were around before he pushed all the way in and closed the door behind him.

"Not a word," Adam poked his head past the trio into the adjacent room, which he saw to be empty. Good. "Not one goddamn word."

Angelita could feel her pulse throbbing behind her ear.

The blonde fixed her mouth to shriek and was presented with the pistol to her nose. She closed her mouth.

The brunette fainted at the mere sight of the pistol pointed at her.

"You," Adam circled the bed, the pistol pointed at Angelita. Unnecessary, but practiced regardless. "You've got some explaining to do."

Angelita also fixed her mouth to speak but only managed a squeak. Terror and surprise temporarily robbed her of the ability to communicate properly. Letting the two half-naked women give her a makeover suddenly sounded amazing.

The proper grip on the pistol was dismissed so Adam could reach forward and grab her by the wrist. He yanked her from the bed and moved towards the door when he heard the shuffling of feet and voices from the hallway. What's more was the sniffing and barking that followed the footsteps. Rex. And when Rex was around so was the King.

A bad situation suddenly became worse.

Adam, forced with deciding whether to take the violent route or sneak his way out of the situation went with the latter. "Not a fucking word." He pressed the pistol against the blonde's neck and yanked Angelita in the other direction _towards_ the King's room.

The exchange of doorknobs twisting open masked the fact that Adam slipped into the wide open room with Angelita, although he didn't quite have time to shut the door.

Rex's barking was dismissed as the slow decay of his brain catching up with him—chalk it up to the luck Adam thought Angelita carried with him… sometimes. The pair tip-toed past Pacer's room, Angelita's silent encouraged by the grip preventing blood circulation and the one on the gun.

If you'd never been inside of the King's building then you wouldn't have realized what a maze it was. Most building designs were simple and easy to navigate only made difficult by the collapse of floors and debris tossed every which way. This building was practically untouched by the bombs and it was still hell to get around in. Each turn led to a hallway that looked exactly like the one before it, all the doors looked the same and to top it all off everyone talked the same. It wasn't as though he could hear new voices and new he hadn't double backed.

Adam pushed on, careful not stand in plain sight of a king who had woken up or was just on guard duty. It was in his carefulness that he walked right into one of the kings. Perhaps he wasn't as careful as he thought he was. Perhaps that one guy was just quieter than he should have been. Whatever the reason was, Adam bumped into a king who instantly recognized him and had to be dealt with.

"He—" The bottom of the pistol was planted into his temple. Hard.

The man crumpled over in a heap and Angelita took off.

A chase ensued, one much shorter than the one they had experienced before but it was just as loud. Past midnight and their feet were thudding on the floor hard enough to wake up those who were light sleepers and others that just begged the question "What the hell was that?"

Adam dealt with the situation by going through the window. The moment she was ready to round a corner and jet down the stairs, he wrapped his arms around her and yanked her out of the window with him. The Kings were awake and they were flying through a window. Adam repeated the same words in his head over and over again. _Great. Just fucking great._


	6. Discovery

Gloria knew something was wrong. Adam was a creature of habit, an efficient one, so when there wasn't a hired gun dragging a pretty girl into the Silver Rush she began to feel the pangs of irritation. Adam was irritation to deal with, but he was a miracle worker in the field. Every time Adam let her know how hard his dick was for her, she dismissed it. It stopped eventually, all at once. She never inquired; he'd stopped talking shit and kept on being efficient. Her thoughts wandered and she finally put one out in her voice.

"He's not coming back," Gloria sighed. "But I want that girl."

"What?" Jean-Baptiste whipped his head around. He hadn't been paying attention. "What do you want to do?"

Gloria didn't respond right away.

"We need someone good," She began to pace back and forth. "Not one of the regulars, someone who can handle this, with a group if need be. I don't want the girl hurt. I also don't care about what happens to Adam. None of our inventory, either. I don't want this getting back to us. Be discreet."

"Anything else?"

She shook her head. "No."

Angelita hadn't said a word. Things appeared to be exploding around Adam's cunning plan but he managed to elude the kings. They weren't trained sentries or trained anything for that matter. The search they conducted was poor at best. They looked in all of the obvious places and for some reason it took a handful of them to explain to t he king what was going on. Those that hung out away from the center of Freeside were clueless to who Angelita was and the story she told inside of the school of impersonation. Their ignorance allowed Adam to slip away as casually as they had first entered Freeside, although they used a different gate this time around.

Adam no longer afforded Angelita the liberty of simply being under his protection. She was going to have to pull her weight now. For starters, there were now two rifles in her caretaker's arsenal. The heavier of the two, the anti-materiel, was being carried by Adam while he made Angelita carry the smaller standard sniper rifle. She groaned when he began to make her hold it, but she offered no other resistance. He wrote this off as her accepting what was happening. It wasn't her reverting back to her slave demeanor, he was sure of this. A slave that groaned in dislike would have been beaten. She still had some resistance in her, however minor.

Adam had nowhere idea where to go.

The Van Graffs reach wasn't as extensive as it was further west, but he was one man with a slave that didn't want anything to do with him. She'd be a problem if a group of energy weapon toting thugs caught up with them and started making demands—if not just shooting them both dead. Adam used to be a loud mouth jackass, which made his appearance at any familiar location noteworthy. He couldn't strut on down to Primm without someone realizing who he was. He'd already visited Goodsprings and it was obvious that he wasn't welcome there.

"Novac." Adam thought aloud.

"He used to be quite the character," Gloria was in the backroom addressing one of the thousand gruff mercenary types that the Mojave gave birth to. "He developed a reputation for going after any piece of ass that was tied down."

"And that which was?" The man asked.

"Not his style."

That man appeared to be writing on a piece of paper. He looked up.

"His words," Gloria shifted. "How does this—"

"What kind of weapons does he have? Are you aware of his any training?" He looked back down.

"Rifles." Gloria replied flatly.

"Automatic?" The man's hand paused.

"Sniper."

The man fought off a smile. "First Recon?"

"No." Gloria was getting bored. There was business that needed her attention."

"You sound sure again."

"We have contacts in the NCR. No one remembers serving with him and there aren't any records of him being there to begin with."

"Could be clandestine," He was scribbling on the paper again. "But I'll take your word for it."

Gloria waited for another question.

"Again: training? What about age?" The man had barely looked up from his little piece of paper during the entire meaning. "Is he fit?"

"Don't know where he learned to shoot, maybe hunting geckos with his daddy. Couldn't be more than 30." Age was difficult , the Mojave aged everyone a little faster than they realized. "He's not fat."

The man smiled. "Good for him." He placed his eyes are Gloria. "Not interested in men?"

"Excuse me?"

"So he's ugly then?"

"Excuse me?" Gloria repeated.

"You've worked with the man on no less than ten occasions and you can't give me an accurate description. "He went back to his paper. "Either you're not interested in men or you're holding back."

Gloria was going to make sure her discomfort was showed later. "He's mixed; black and white, fairly light skinned. Keeps his hair low, almost bald but not balding—facial hair is just about the same length. Decent height; six feet even probably, maybe a little less."

"And the girl?"

Patience running thin Gloria said everything there was to say about her in one go.

"Average height, long black hair… pretty face—really pretty face. She's a runaway slave. A legion shave, she's not used to life in the desert without direction. Since Adam works alone he's probably not used to giving direction. She's probably… no, she is slowing him down."

"Okay." He stepped over and handed Gloria the paper. It had no writing on it besides the name Weir in cursive at the bottom. The rest of the paper was covered in a crude drawing: a man stabbing a woman with a buzz-cut in the face. "You've got a pretty nose."

Angelita complained the entire way to Novac. Not with words, but grunts and groans, even dragging her feet across the ground like a petulant child who got tired after a few feet. A handful of times she stopped completely and a stare down ensued. Adam was undefeated. Novac was far from welcoming, but then again, what place really was? They approached from the east, under the watchful eye of Manny Vargas. Manny saw Adam first. Adam ignored him. If he was going to shoot he would have shot already. Angelita was trailing behind, so she didn't see what Adam stepped in.

"Go around." Adam pushed his left arm out and made a wide semi-circle. "Around."

Angelita nodded, submissive, and walked took a wide arc around Adam. He stopped halfway and looked to him for further direction. All of the fight seemed to have been sucked out of her eyes. She took her chance and failed.

"In there." Adam didn't know the town, but it was the main building on the motel grounds. The _Dino Dee-Lite_ front desk building. "Wait for me in there."

Angelita nodded again, eyes downcast while he moved into the building. Adam settled down onto one knees and dragged his fingertips against the rocky ground. The blood wasn't fresh by any stretch of the imagination, but the Mojave had a way of distorting time. There was a tooth, a cracked pair of glasses and other random matter that likely came from someone's head in his estimation. Nothing of use was there so Adam made his way into the building behind Angelita.

She was alone.

Something was off. Adam looked around the room. Coffee mugs were neatly lined up, souvenir dinosaurs were begging to be bought and there were keys. Everything was in perfect order and the door was left unlocked. Anyone with a little bit of greed in them would have been able to walk in and take anything they wanted.

"Get some sarsaparilla." Adam motioned towards the vending machine while he made his way around the front desk.

He saw the safe and knelt down to get a better look. Instincts told him to grab his tools, but he went against them and tried the safe manually. It opened. Disappointingly enough it was empty save dirty water and a bottle of Nuka-Cola. He didn't bother with the cola, he was sarsaparilla man.

"How many bottles were in there?"

Angelita shook her head.

The wave of disappointment came down over Adam like a ton of bricks. His mouth had been watering over the prospect of getting some Sunset Sarsaparilla. Having an itching for something, thinking you had it and then realizing you weren't going to be getting it after all was a terrible feeling. With a heavy sigh he closed the safe and turned to the keys that were still there. Under normal circumstances he would have tried to find someone to pay for the room. Too many complications came from cutting corners. But this time he picked up two of the keys and motioned for Angelita to follow.

Through the gates he looked at the engraving on the key and tried to match it with a door. When he found one that worked he stepped in first and looked around. The room was furnished; they were likely all furnished this modestly. Leftovers from before the war still lined most buildings and this motel was no different. The posters were a dead giveaway. The problem this presented was that it wasn't all that easy to tell whether or not someone was currently using the room. Adam had a rucksack with supplies that would be left in the room for most of their stay. Something like that meant that someone was in the room, but some people traveled light.

He took the chance. "Get comfortable."

Angelita dropped everything she'd been assigned to carry on the bed and sat down, her back to Adam. He was going through his usual song and dance when faced with downtime. The rucksack and his outer layers were pulled off and he began to undress. Not all of the way, just enough to get the loose rocks and debris out of his waistline, his boots and whatever crevice they had decided to crawl into.

"Stay here." Adam was putting his clothing back in order. "I'm gonna see what the town has for supplies."

Weir was conducting himself like a detective, poking around Freeside to get an idea of what had transpired. The kings were worthless; a flock of sheep attached to a restrained leader. They'd be crushed eventually. Mick and Ralph didn't show him secret wares or offer to lend a hand with a special talent, but he figured they served a something better than the rudimentary crap that lined their shop. The dealer was equally worthless; drugs weren't hard to come by unless you were an idiot. All of Freeside bothered him when it came down to it. Had he not been assigned the task of chasing some rifle-toting shepherd and his adorable sheep, he would have blown the place to kingdom come. They had ugly noses—most of them.

Gloria had been lucky in so far as she was the one who hired Weir, he wouldn't do anything to the person who was going to be paying him. That didn't make any sense. But the poor residents of Freeside were likely to have one of their own missing within the next hour. The wasteland—any wasteland was a horrible place to go missing. Unless you were one of a select few people no one would notice and those that did would write it off as just another life lost to the sand.

Weir found what he thought to be a woman long past her prime. Her hair was caked in dirt,—something not unusual—her clothes were ragged and torn—also not unusual—and no one seemed to care that a stranger, the second in so many days, was walking with her. He took her past the Mormon Fort and in between the building where Genaro sold his food. His arm around her waist, he tugged her left and they eventually stopped in front of the dumpsters. She probably thought that this was a man taking interest in her, wanting to go somewhere private. Walls were rarely good enough anymore. Weir certainly smiled like he adored her.

The truth was he was twisting on the inside. The dirt embedded in her pores and making her hair resemble a dry mop weren't the issue. Her body wasn't the best he'd ever seen, but her curves would do for most men. Weir pushed his fingers through her hair, fighting against the tangles to form a solid grip and slammed her head against the rusty metal. There was no rhyme or reason to the smashing, just enough to knock her unconscious, probably concuss her.

"You shouldn't be allowed outside." Weir pulled a scalpel out of his pocket. "You're too ugly. You make people feel worse than they already are."

Weir went to work on her nose; handling the blade with such precision that it was easy to believe that he was a surgeon. He worked fast. Not because he was in danger of being discovered but because he wanted to vomit at the sight of the woman. There were no bystanders to maintain an act for behind that building, he was disgusted by her.

While the average resident of the Mojave had become used to modest furnishings, Angelita had actually become accustomed to better. Her time spent as a possession meant she frequented some of the more lavish quarters in the legion, although her personal quarters were far less extravagant. The motel room was somewhere in the middle. The floors were dirty but the sheets were clean. The windows were cracked and the curtains torn, but everything was in order. She fought off the urge to like the room. They'd be leaving before she could get comfortable.

"Water?" Adam skipped pleasantries. "Clean water."

"I two nice strangers in a week would be a bit too much." Dr. Ada Straus looked Adam over. "Forty caps a bottle."

"Are you shitting me?" Adam stared. Maybe he should've been nice. "Twenty caps."

The two mercenaries accompanying the doctor began to move. One to Adam's left the other to his right. A shoddy service rifle and a 10mm pistol. Make didn't matter all that much and he didn't have anything beyond a knife—a bullet to the head was a bullet to the head.

Adam sighed. All of his fight had been used up on Angelita. "Thirty caps?"

"Fine, fine." She was kinder than she let on.

They made the exchange for three bottles, but Adam stuck around afterward. Had it been this time last year he would have remarked about the blood on her tank top and probably something about her breasts. Neither comment came.

"Where's the motel owner?"

Straus shot him a puzzled look. "What?"

"There wasn't anyone at the front desk."

"That's odd." She scratched an arm. "She's never late."

"Did she wear glasses?" Adam was checking the water while he asked.

"Yes. How would you know that?"

"Guessing." Adam began to walk back towards the motel. "I'll yell if I see her."

"You'll yell?"

When Adam got back to the motel there were two new visitors. Nothing set them apart from the rest of the residents: their clothes were old and dirty, their faces were sweaty and dirt-filled road maps and they drank what appeared to be old, dirty water. There were no visible weapons on either of them as far as Adam could tell. He was prepared to dismiss them as locals until the pair began to inspect the bungalows across from the motel rooms. Their demeanor changed entirely and it was obvious they knew exactly what they were doing. One man pushed into the front door while the other began to examine the ground for what Adam could only assume was footprints.

_How the hell would they know the bottom of someone's boots?_

The man checking for prints looked across the open space and instantly recognized Adam. The change in his eyes, the way his features shifted—it was undeniable. He spouted something in Latin and Adam bolted for the room and Angelita.


	7. Profligates

The sky split open and Mars took center stage, bathing the world in his righteous fire, taunting those that would dare challenge his authority with a war cry that sent a chill through the very world itself. Angelita's screams were dwarfed by the sound and for the moment her mind reverted to that of a child. She could see the priestess she had been assigned to, old and gray, teaching her the wonders of Caesar's father. The lessons of ruthlessness stuck with her, it stuck with all of the children. Surrounded by cracked porcelain and the aroma of poor plumbing, she prayed for a quick end. One she was far too afraid to give herself.

She considered the profligate in the main room. Would Mars strike down one who aided a runaway? Then she considered herself. The virtues that had been seared into her brain crumbled so easily under the weight of the world. Honest had been the first pillar to be knocked loose and it was difficult to imagine surviving with it intact. Inexperienced and yet she lied as though she'd been born with the gift. But now, here in the motel room she tried so hard to hate, she could feel the angry god closing in on her. She wished she had not run. Singing, giving birth to children—these were the things her mother had done. Running put her with a man who bore no mark of the legion and yet still barked orders as if he had been with them his whole life; a Centurion in hiding.

For a moment she was sure she had died and for her betrayal she was doomed to spend the rest of eternity in the form of a rotting corpse. It became worse: Adam walked into the bathroom. Her mind trudged into the depths and wondered what he was going to do with her lifeless body. That man, the one she now saw as a Centurion born on the wrong side of the conflict, was back to issuing commands as if they'd come down from the heavens. She hadn't taken her hands off of her ears until Adam grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her out of the bathroom.

The main room held only a fraction of the charm that had attracted her appreciation. The bed was in the right place but many things weren't. The small trinkets that gave the room character were blown in all sorts of directions. The front of the room was an entirely different story. Without having it explained to her, she came to the understanding that no god had come down to punish her. Adam gathered his rucksack and gave her everything she had been carrying when they first walked into town. His rifle, the one he had gotten in Freeside was yanked off of the bed; it was the last thing to be pulled out of the room. With his lead the pair stepped out of the room, through what was left of the door and over what was left of two men. She couldn't discern that they had in fact been men; it took his remarking that the torn and shredded flesh was all that was left of them. However, it turned out to be the wholes—minor from the inside, gaping on the outside, that attracted the runaway's attention the most. "What had done this?" She thought aloud.

Weir cleaned himself up and got out of Freeside. The odds were with him as far as someone actually realizing that the woman was missing, but they were only odds. He was inspecting the roads outside, carefully weighing all of the possibilities given the information that he had collected.

"A Mojave boy," He thought aloud to himself. "He's not gonna head north, he doesn't know that land, at least not as good as his home. No advantage in it. He'll go soul, weighed down by his pretty little girl. Probably won't get far."

He moved south.

Still, the man needed a cover. There was a look that people in the Mojave associated with killers and he had it. He walked and walked until one of the many traveling merchants and accompany mercenaries came across him. There was no need to express interest; the merchant appeared to want to sell much more than he needed to buy. Perhaps the mercenaries weren't paid in full.

"Pretty extensive selection I've got here." All smiles, the merchant motioned Weir over. "Why don't you take a look?

"Anything good?" Weir returned the smile and inspected the merchant's features. Specifically the nose, of course.

To happy at a prospective sale the merchant didn't notice.

"Plenty of chems," The merchant dug through the packs on the brahmin. "New shipment of water, bullets, some new clothes and some armor."

"Could I see the clothes?"

"Sure?"

Most of the clothing was worthless, likely pulled off of a fresh corpse and given a quick back in dirty water and detergent if anything at all. Pre-war outfits had little use outside of a casino, especially for someone that wandered from settlement to settlement.

"Hey." Weir pulled a long white lab coat out of one of the side packs. "How much for this pretty little lady?"

"That's an expensive piece you're looking at." The merchant explained. "Rare thing you can only find way out to the east. Picked it up from a drifter."

Drifter meant corpse.

"How much did he let it go for?" The coat went over Weir's shoulder. The merchant didn't know, but it already belonged to him. "Better yet, how much are you looking to get rid of it for?"

"As I said it's a rare piece, how about five hundred caps?"

"That's a bit high for a lab coat, don't you think?" Weir didn't scoff at the price, but it was clear that the merchant was desperate.

The interest in the coat waned for the moment. His attention was instead handed out to the pair of mercenaries. His original assessment that the merchant was in debt to the mercenaries needed to be adjusted, they didn't appear to cost much. One wasn't even paying attention to the exchange between his boss and the customer whereas the other was pacing around with his finger hooked over his gun's trigger—combined with a fidgety demeanor and the right scare would have had him hopping around on one foot.

"Maybe, but I don't think you'll find another one of this quality."

"Perhaps. Weir shifted his interest to the brahmin this time. "400?"

"400 works."

Weir paid and the deal was complete. He didn't move.

"Uhm… something else you need?" The merchant had finished his caps and realizing that his customer was still standing there.

Weir bided his time and waited for an opening. The two mercenaries gave into their boredom and became even sloppier, wandering away from the immediate vicinity every, even taking their eyes off of his hands. A scalpel, the very same that sliced off the woman's nose in Freeside, was plunged into the merchant's throat. The free hand was stuffed over the merchant's mouth to muffle the gargling that was associated with such a wound. The next step was simply the act.

"Oh god, oh god." Authenticity was key, he truly sounded concerned. "He was showing me some chems and… oh god."

"What? Oh fuck." The first mercenary came rushing back—the one with the sloppy trigger discipline. It was still sloppy. "What happened?"

"God damn it." The second mercenary also returned and tried to find out what was going on. "Move your hand, let me see it."

"Okay." A quick, nervous nod was made to the request and Weir yanked the scalpel out of the dying merchant's neck. The blood that spurted out of the wound told the story. As much information as it gave it was undeniably distracting. Coated in blood, the super-sharp blade was slash deep through the sloppy mercenary's face—cutting from his temple down to his jaw in a diagonal path. The next slash came just as quickly, cutting a wide arc in the other mercenary's neck from ear to ear.

Pity was taken on the disfigured face while he squirmed on the crowd, twitching and screaming at the pain. His gun was on the floor, a simple 9mm pistol, one that Weir picked up and considered part of the deal for the lab coat. He aimed the pistol at mercenary's forehead and squeezed. The other two weren't so lucky. While he rummaged through the brahmin packs a second time, he did it to a soundtrack of squirming and death gurgles.

"I needed to get blood on the coat," Weir turned the brahmin around and began to head south again. "It's more authentic that way."

Meanwhile, much further south, Adam was dragging Angelita along and trying to put as much distance between him and Novac. He had pushed out of town, ignoring every last question Vargas had thrown in his direction, even the warning of hell he'd catch for "destroying Boone's room." The entire time he was considering what the hell had just happened. It couldn't have been more than a minute between him diving through the door and yanking Angelita out. An entire magazine's worth of ammunition had been fired through the anti-materiel rifle and devastated everything in front of him. His ears were still ringing.

"So what do you know about the legion?" Adam felt compelled to ask. Slave or not she had eyes and ears.

Angelita didn't respond. She didn't even look at him.

"You know they want you, right? They'll probably kill me on the spot, but you," He shook his head and glanced back at her. She was staring at the road and following his shadow. "They'll put you back into slavery or worse."

The truth made her cringe. She'd seen how some less worthwhile slaves were handled. She'd seen enough of them made examples of on crosses to last both of them a lifetime. Going back was not an option and still she offered no assistance.

"Fine, don't say anything. But that won't be the end of it, not by a long shot." Adam shook his head and continued to walk. "Once they find out that those two bastards are in pieces they're going to send more. Not any soldier either, they're going to send a group of assassins."

Angelita hugged herself and rubbed her hands along her shoulders. It sent a very real chill down her spine. She'd seen these assassins and how other slaves gave them a wide berth when they moved around an encampment.

"Have you ever seen what a machete does at close range? Forget if they're carrying themic lanc—"

"Okay." She spoke her first honest word since Freeside. She repeated it. "Okay."

"Welcome back to conversation. So what exactly did you do while you were a slave? Sing, yeah, but everyone's heard the stories about how women are treating." Adam wasn't mincing words. "By all accounts you should have had a kid or three by now."

"She," Angelita paused. "My mother; she served the Centurions."

"So your father?"

"Is a Centurion."

"So some field commander had his little girl run out on him." Adam threw his hands up. Why did he ever consider her a good luck charm? "For all we know there could be a group of eighty men barreling down on us."

"No." She shook her head. "They wouldn't do such a thing."

"Believe me; I've seen morons in the legion do some pretty stupid shit."

"And they're all dead now, aren't they?"

She silenced him.

"It will be assassins, as you said."

"So why haven't you been farting out kids like most of the women?"

"I was supposed to be a priestess." She almost sounded proud.

Adam stopped and turned around to face her. "A what?"

"A priestess." She explained. "They take care of the children that are brought into the legion. They shape and mold Caesar's citizens—they make sure everyone adheres to the standards we're all taught as a child."

"Momma bears."

"That's one way of putting it yes."

For the moment Adam stopped asking questions and stared at her. Stress had taken its toll on her far worse than it had on him, then again, the Mojave had brought him as far down as he was willing to go by that point. Angelita on the other hand was fresh out of the protective arms of a society. A hated and feared society, but still protected. The way she spoke of the priestesses it made his mind wander and before long his look was more interrogative than curious.

"Did you want to leave?"

Angelita fixed her mouth to speak but offered no answer. She saw a plume at the top of his head, fanned out horizontally. Pieces of armor from all enemies draped across his body from the hulking super mutants to the arrogant NCR troopers that dotted the Wasteland. It was an odd connection; seeing one who signified the furthest thing from the legion as one of its most respected ranks. The more she considered the question the more it felt as though he had given another command.

"No." She stood with her hands at her side and stared at a long crack in the ground.

"Why did you leave then?"

"Because mother told me we had to go."

Adam narrowed his eyes. "I thought children were raised by priestesses? Your mother was cattle to them, how did she hang on to her child?"

"I don't know? Maybe the centurions enjoyed her?"

"Sounds like bullshit to me."

He might as well have punched her from the way she flinched. They were walking again but she was busy questioning herself. All of the lies she had told, had they changed the way she spoke? Would people always question whether or not she was telling the truth? Setting aside all of the thoughts that were crushing her, why did he want to know any of it. As far as she was concerned they were living on borrowed time. Whether it was tomorrow or next week, they would cease to breathe.

"We're going to Ranger Station Charlie. It's just down the road here."

The northern approach was taken explicitly because of the rocky overlook that gave a decent vantage over the majority of the compound. Adam was no enemy of the NCR but in the same breath he was no friend. So they crept. Almost in a crawl they approached Ranger Station Charlie, Adam in the lead with Angelita trailing him much slower. For once the sight of carnage took him by surprise; the bodies of legionaries were spread out across the station riddled with bullet holes.

"That's interesting." Adam set one of the rifles down in front of him, not bothering to adjust the scope as there was no movement.

Details were revealed as he peered through the scope: the dead legion soldiers weren't as experienced as he had been expecting, they were dead to the last man and it was not the NCR that had done the deed. Nothing he saw pointed towards NCR having their hands in this. The bullet wounds didn't correspond to the caliber of weapon that NCR soldiers or rangers would carry. Given the up close and personal style of combat many legionaries conducted it was unlikely that the children being shipped out west would be able to handle them. Detective mode was shut off as the realization that any semblance of safety the NCR might have afforded them would have to wait. Even further, it was starting to seem likely that NCR outposts weren't safe at all.

"Fuck."

"What is it?"

"Nothing," Adam stood straight up and began to make his way down to the station. "Come on, let's go see if there's anything on the inside to make use of."

Angelita nodded and followed.

To Adam's surprise he didn't need to shield her from the twisted bodies that they needed to pass in order to get inside of the main building. She was becoming used to the sight of blood and missing limbs, even one particularly devastated body only incited a blink from her—though she did wonder what happened to the rest of the head. Was it the spot on the rusted car behind him? Had Adam not tugged on her wrist she likely would have spiraled into morbid curiosity, maybe even touched the rotting flesh.

Inside the station proved to be just as bad if not worse. Every trooper in the station was dead—and stripped clean of their ammunition; something the legion wouldn't have bothered to do in his experience. A scavenger would have had a field day outside as well, rummaging through the other dead, but for the most part everything that was taken belonged to the NCR soldiers. The adjacent room forced him to consider even more scenarios. Two of the bodies no longer had their NCR armor.

"They're all dead—but half of them don't have any clothes on." He aired out his thoughts, a normal method of helping someone track a scene. "Those two assholes in Novac were dressed up like settlers… Which means…"

Angelita waited for him to finish.

"There are two members of the legion walking around in NCR gear. Could be ranger armor, could be trooper armor, no way to tell." Adam pushed pass her and moved into the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet. Empty. He slammed it shut. "Fantastic."

Angelita was still quiet. She was an observant one; she learned to be as a woman in the legion. What she saw was a man that showed little emotion was beginning to crack. He was not used to taking care of anyone but himself, this much she was sure of, though he had done admirably for his part. He had saved her on more than one occasion and had she not been so utterly confused she might have been thankful. As it was, she was presently in the mindset to follow his orders, though there was nothing to say that tomorrow morning she'd to the first authority figure she saw and claimed he was selling her off to slavers.

Hands on his hips Adam sighed and gathered his thoughts. "There's nothing here but dead bodies and deader bodies."

"Where are we going to go?"

_Fuck if I know _immediately came to mind. "West? Let's go west, there's a town called Primm that's not too far off, maybe we'll get lucky."

"What do you mean lucky?"

"Maybe they aren't all dead."

"But it's getting dark."

And shit comes out in the dark; a lesson that Adam had learned when he was young. It was a lesson that everyone learned when they were young. There were times when such a phrase meant that all of the creepy people and streetwalkers came out, but now it was much more vicious. There were full-blown monsters wandering around now and not being able to see a creature that was designed to kill meant that things weren't going to go well for you.

"We'll sleep here then."

Sleeping in a ranger station with about a dozen corpses was actually a better idea than Adam thought. He reiterated as much to himself over and over again until he believed it was true. There were too many variables to consider. If a member of the legion came back to see what happened to the war party then they were likely screwed. If the NCR came to the station to check in then they were just as screwed. Raiders looking for an easy score screwed them and fiends seeing bodies to scavenge screwed them just as hard. That wasn't even considering the amount of creatures that would smell the meat and come over for a quick snack.

They slept there anyway. Outside. In the hollowed shell of pre-war transportation.

Adam fought off the grogginess as he heard the familiar sound of a brahmin being led across the wasteland. The brahmin was in fact wandering by itself around the front end of the station while a man in a blood-stained lab coat looked over the bodies with a discerning eye. It appeared that he hadn't come across the pair in their sleep and from which body he was currently investigating it seemed that he had just arrived. A hand was tossed over Angelita's mouth and he shook her.

"Stay here," Adam whispered. "Don't make a sound, stay out of sight, okay?"

Angelita nodded.

Adam moved out of the pre-war husk and set his feet down on the ground. His rifles stayed with Angelita, though the pistol was shown prominently on his hip. The more his eyes sat on the man the more he seemed like a doctor. Straus had looked very much the same with blood spotted across her top. The lab coat, the glasses, even the freshly shaved face made him look every bit what people expected a doctor to look like. Then again, he could have been a mad scientist for all he knew.

"Hey!" Adam called out, a hand casting shade of his eyes. "Who are you?"

"NCR doctor!" He responded. "Got a request for some assistance down at this station. You don't look like any trooper I've ever seen."

"That'd be because I'm not one." The sun was working against him. Adam circled until it was at his back.

"Go figure." The doctor didn't respond to his movement. "Where are the boys?"

"Dead."

Adam watched his response carefully and couldn't see anything that'd lead him to believe he was faking. Utterly dejected, he plopped down on the ground and made a further mess of the white coat. Glasses were plucked from his face and held in hand while he looked off into space.

"That's the third station in as many days." He sighed, open mouthed. "They've been reporting skirmishes. Legion keeps poking in and running off before they get their teeth in. I guess they were taking head counts. Seeing if reinforcements came."

"Makes sense." Adam shifted, one hand on his head the other on his hip. "You came all the way out here by yourself?"

"No." He shook his head. "A ranger came with me. Saw that something went down in Novac so I told him I could make the trip here in the morning by myself while he kept an eye out."

"_Oh_." He didn't volunteer information.

The doctor gathered himself and stood. He was heading for the building.

"They're all dead, doc."

"I understand that. I need to collect their tags."

"They weren't on them."

"You looked?" The doctor stopped and looked at him.

Adam paused. "Yeah."

"That's fairly risky. The room could have been booby trapped." The doctor put his glasses back on. "Were you hurt?"

"No. I wasn't the one who did any of this. Legion was wiped out when I got here."

The doctor was staring now, arms crossed over his chest. He approached and stopped five or six feet in front of Adam. "There's something there on your nose."

"Uh, thanks?" Adam brushed a hand across his nose. He didn't feel anything fall. "You gonna let your brahmin wander out there alone?"

"Hm? Oh. Good call." The doctor turned and left the station's perimeter in order to retrieve the brahmin.

Adam glanced over his shoulder to make sure Angelita hadn't decided to go off of the deep end again. From that position he couldn't quite see her, but he did make out a small portion of his rucksack. The doctor returned with the brahmin and patted a shoulder.

"Carrying all of my medical supplies, need anything before I march back up to Novac?"

"Who turns down free supplies? Any stim?" Adam inched forward. Three feet between the two men.

"Should be. Take a look for yourself. Should be in the right pack."

"Thank you." Adam nodded and moved towards the right side and lifted the flap.

"I'm gonna go check the bodies. They might have left something behind that the ranger will want to see." The doctor disappeared into the building.

The stimpaks that Adam had been promised were not in the right flap. With the doctor out of the equation for the time being he decided on checking the left side. The flap was lifted and the pin on the frag grenade was released.

The doctor was laughing.


	8. Headache

The grenade going off was satisfying. Weir had taken to the floor to avoid any shrapnel or debris that was flung in the direction of the building, but it hadn't been necessary. Much of the blast was focused in Adam's direction or into the brahmin, which he could hear dying. On the blood-soaked floor of the ranger station Weir imagined the seared, ruptured flesh of the brahmin intermingled with the Adam's twisted, mangled body. The creature was moaning, kicking its hooves against the sand while it hung on the precipice of death. He was smiling, giggling even. The thought of wandering out of the building and walking over to Adam's corpse to see most of his face missing forced his blood in another direction. He toted an erection in seconds.

Outside Angelita felt the chill of her childhood race up and down her spine. Her image of mars coming down to their realm to punish had been misguided once and yet she wanted so desperately to believe that it was happening now. Adam had one rule: "Do everything I say." He had explicitly told her that she should stay there while he climbed out of the car and went to handle whatever it was that he needed to handle. She stayed with the gear, quiet and out of sight. But now, with the explosion and the sound of the dying animal, her heart was muscling its way out of her chest and pushing up into her mouth. Debris landed against the car in such a chilling staccato that she couldn't make out what happened. The sounds alternated between soft plinks, bangs, gooey slaps and harrowing thumps. The inside of the car began to resemble a torture device with sharp pieces of debris perforating the side.

Adam was on the ground, face down, motionless. If he was breathing it couldn't be seen. If he was bleeding it couldn't be distinguished from the abundance of brahmin blood. His duster, the one he had painstakingly crafted by himself, was shredded down the back. The leather layer that led to the armored lining was almost completely destroyed; every rip, tear and whole had an accompanying piece of smoking shrapnel sticking out of it. The hood over his head appeared to be the worst of the entire picture; a long, thin piece of shrapnel stood up out of the back.

"My dear girl, where are you?" Weir opened the door and stuck his head out. The smell of burned meat filled his nostrils. "I see breakfast is ready. Aren't you hungry, love?"

He received no answer.

"Come on, don't you know he was going to hand you over himself?" He began to look around the immediate area until his eyes fell upon Adam. "I got rid of him for you."

Still nothing.

The steaming pile of man made him smile. "You know he needed the caps, don't you? He got himself in some serious trouble."

Weir stepped over towards the row of cars that made up the makeshift perimeter. Unknowingly, he was only two cars down from where Adam and Angelita slept. It was a quick search; either there was something there or there wasn't. He hummed now, some song he heard on the radio while he was in Freeside.

"He's been lying to you the whole time, love." He poked his head into another car. "Let me guess: he told you that he could protect you from the legion? From the fiends? From anyone?"

Not a word back.

Weir finally reached the correct car but only found the rifles and the sacks. The girl was nowhere to be found.

Angelita had crawled out of the other side of the car and crawled along the side. She was practically in reaching distance from Adam once the man went on yelling about her being lied to. None of it made any sense—these were things Adam had done without any input from her end. Her heart sank back into place and plummeted even further when she saw her 'Centurion' motionless. She couldn't risk yelling but every ounce of her body wanted to tell him to get up. But to order someone superior? Perish the thought. Everything she had learned and unlearned while traveling outside of the sanctity of Caesar's land gelled together and confused her. How was this situation supposed to be handled?

She mouthed the words as hard as she could; pleading and begging that he get up.

"You should come out now," Weir slammed his fist down on a rusty car. "I hate to think what I'd end up doing to you if I get angry."

He elicited a jump. Angelita accidentally fell backwards and bumped into something solid.

"There's my girl." With a smile Weir hurried over to find Angelita trying to rush to her feet. "Oh you're even prettier than they said. Under normal circumstances I would've kept you for myself. But,"

Angelita swallowed hard.

"I've got a lot of caps tied up with you."

True to form Weir loomed over Angelita and took interest in her nose. Given the position he pushed his little obsession one step further and wrapped one rough hand around her jaw. She went with his lead and stood up. Face-to-face, a few inches separating the two, he inspected the bridge of her nose, the curve of both nostrils and how far the tip was from her face. She had an adorable button nose. He was disgusted.

"Are you making fun of me, love?" He canted his head to the side, a half-smile on his face. "I just have to get you back alive, they never specified in what condition."

Angelita felt the burning sensation erupt in her eyes.

"Don't worry. You'll know exactly how I feel." The smile grew to psychotic proportions.

Face down on the ground consciousness seemed so fragile. Wafting in and out of lucidness, Adam finally managed to curl his fingers around the present and vault himself out of unconsciousness. The ground was harder than he remembered—moister, as well. His fingertips dragged small lines into the loose dirt until he formed a fist with either hand and made his first attempt at standing up. It didn't work too well for him.

Initially, he had only seconds to get away from the brunt of the blast and cover up, the pin and sound giving away what the trap had actually been. He knew it was a frag, but judging from the broken ribs he had sustained it had been repackaged with something more potent.

Adam went with a roll instead. With his weight shifted to the side, he shrugged his shoulders out of the shrapnel soaked duster and immediately realized what was happening.

Weir was overjoyed. He'd found the perfect nose, the antithesis to his own. "They used to tease when I was younger. Do you know what I did to them?"

He reached into the long, blood-drenched lab coat and pulled out his scalpel. The blade hadn't been replaced since the encounter with the merchant and his mercenaries. "I made them feel how I felt. Empathy isn't so bad, is it?"

With a throbbing headache to match broken ribs Adam went for the weapon that was easiest to use: the knife at the small of his back. It slid free with one good yank and he began to crawl forward—quickly. There was little time to delve into stealth.

Angelita's didn't sob with the tears nor did she try to choke them back. She practiced an eerie balance between acceptance and rebellion, both mired in the values she had learned from the priestess. She would not give him the satisfaction of being a pathetic victim.

The tip of the blade caught the lab coat and pierced it without issue. The denim, the next layer, suffered the same fate. Satisfaction came when the blade struck flesh; splitting the skin and ripping into muscle. It went deep.

Weir howled. Angelita saw his face twist and contort before he threw her to the ground. The pain was unimaginable. He looked down first, eyeing the blade stuck in his leg, to the man who had jammed it there. He slashed at Adam wildly with his bloody scalpel.

Adam pushed his head back to avoid the first swing and lay down completely to avoid the second. The third came with a roll—putting him in arms length of his pistol. _Must've been knocked off in the blast_. He grabbed the 10mm pistol, turned, and fired. He didn't have both hands on the weapon and it was from his hip, messy at best.

The doctor had taken off, hopping on one leg while the bullets punched holes through cars that he had been standing in front of split seconds before. The firing stopped—the pistol must've jammed. Another howl, he pulled the blade out of his leg and attempted an escape.

"My rifle!" Adam kept his eyes on the doctor while he ran. "Get me my rifle!"

Angelita was hadn't moved since she struck the ground, paralyzed by the situation. Adam sounded as if he were a mile away. She sat with her knees held against her breasts, waiting for it all to end.

"Get the rifle." His eyes found her and repeated himself. The tone was different. Firm, but not yelling. It was spoken with the expectation that she was going to listen merely because he was the one that said it. No allegiance or rank involved, this is how things were.

She responded to this. The one that had he had saved her life with days before was picked up and rushed over to him. The doctor was hobbled but he was moving; hopping on one leg and dragging himself back up to his feet whenever the pain became too much or he lost his balance. As she set the rifle down Adam set up.

"He's scared." Adam mentioned to Angelita while he peered through the scope. The stock was pulled in tight against his shoulder while he went down onto his stomach. The simple act of lying back down was painful enough that he cringed the entire time. "He's running east, there's no cover there."

Adam breathed and placed his index finger over the trigger. The doctor had elected to take a straight path and was wounded. Given the speed he was moving it was no response that he wasn't very far away at all, it was a simple shot. Broken ribs and all, Adam did not hesitate.

From Angelita's perspective there was a sudden explosion off in the distance; chunks of red and pink sprayed into the air and the doctor fell forward, crumpled over in death. The sound was nowhere near as deafening and seeing it from so far away gave her a detached feeling. Everything was okay, but she still felt the same way as she had some moments ago.

They were not safe.

Adam rolled onto his side and breathed. It hurt. "What did he say to you?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'll live," He repeated. "What did he say to you?"

"Are you sure?"

Adam shot her a look that made her feel like a five year old.

"He said you were in serious trouble. That you needed a lot of caps." Angelita didn't question Adam about it.

He volunteered the information. "It's true. I got involved with some people I shouldn't have gotten involved with; shot someone I shouldn't have shot and caught hell over it. We made a deal, I get them a fairly large sum of caps by the end of the year and it all goes away."

"Who was that?"

"Hell if I know." Adam continued. "But if he was a little more thorough we'd both be a lot worse off."

With a painful sigh Adam moved over to the duster he had tossed off and inspected the damage. The leather was worthless now. A large piece of shrapnel had failed against the armored lining in the hood. He estimated it was no more than a centimeter from punching through and getting stuck inside of his brain. Small fragments dotted the rest of the duster, but all failed just as the other hand. This meant caps. Caps Adam couldn't spare at the moment. He'd need another pistol to repair his old one and there was the whole broken ribs thing to deal with.

"I need you to get a needle for me." Adam motioned over to the car where they slept. "It's long and thin with a blue cap on it.

Angelita nodded and made her way to the car where their things were. He hadn't specified which compartment the needle was in so she was forced to rummage through his things a bit. She found the needle eventually and something else as well. She made her way back and handed it to him while her other hand was extended to him, an aureus in the middle of her palm.

"Where did you get this?"

Adam pulled the cap off of the Med-X and lifted his shirt. "Off of one of your dead friends." The painkiller was injected and Adam breathed easy. For now.

Angelita contemplated turning and running.

"What is it? What else did he tell you?" He didn't try to take it from her; he was enjoying breathing with some measure of normalcy far too much.

"That…"

"Forget about it. We need to get out of here before the NCR come riding in and ask us why there are dead legionaries, troopers, a half blown up brahmin and a dead doctor here."

There were two ways to Primm in the direction they were headed. There was the long way that continued south to Nipton then turned west and eventually north into Primm. The other way was far shorter, cutting through the middle in order to head directly to the town. Adam had decided on the shorter way and once they had gathered all of the gear they began to walk again.

The Med-X was working wonders, but he could still feel that something was out of place. Heading back up north to Novac to see the doctor had crossed his mind, but there was no telling about whether or not the doctor had any accomplices. Checking his body yielded no additional information—they were back at square one, except Adam needed a bit of medical attention before he became addicted to Med-X. Addiction wasn't random chance at this point; he was going to need at least three more by his own estimation before they reached Primm. The odds of not acquiring an addiction were small.

"Look," Adam broke their usual walking silence once they reached the pass. "I was hoping to avoid going to Primm but we don't have much of a choice at this point."

Angelita nodded.

"There's a handful of people that, well," The number as actually higher than a handful. "That won't appreciate me being there."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying you're going to have to do most of the talking." The sight of the dead ghoul made him stop. A quick inspection revealed he had nothing but the clothes on his back. He continued to walk. "The sheriff is as likely to greet me as he is to shoot me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Honestly?" A shrug followed. "I don't know."

"Why don't they like you?"

"You really wanna know?" Adam felt a small sharp pain rock his side. The breaks might have been worse than he thought or there might be more broken.

Angelita hesitated. Did she? It wasn't her place to ask, but she did anyway. "Yes."

"Sheriff's wife got piss-drunk one night and wanted company." Another shrug. "I suppose he was out making sure she didn't have to sleep with one eye open, but oh well, I was her company."

Each and every time she began to think highly of him she found out something that brought it back down to earth. It was either this or he did something that twisted her view of him. There were times he was a simpleton, times he was kind and then times he spoke of when he was a immoral man with no sense of right or wrong. And yet, he insisted on taking care of her.

"I guess you really didn't." The recollection made him smile. "He was a good guy, forgave her and everything. They worked through it. He doesn't know about the second or third time, though."

She remained silent; he appeared to be in love with his voice.

"Or the fourth, fifth and sixth." He chuckled. "Anyway, a few residents took exception to my little escapade with their protector's woman. Didn't want me around anymore. A couple of them ended up picking fights—they lost. But I'm sure you could imagine the sheriff's face when he saw that it was me stirring up all the trouble."

By time they crossed the train tracks Adam was talking about the stars and what they meant. How each time he killed someone he was sure the following night would be just a tad bit darker. The lights were going out and he was the one helping darkness cover their little slice of the world. Wild ambition was shared as well. "You think if I kill 'Ky-Zar' the sun'll go down for good." There was a lack of balance to his stride, one that was usually confident and cautious at the same time.

He even shared his view on her and her body. How she was a "beautiful young woman" and that he'd "love to spend a night" with her that didn't involve worrying about the next day. Luckily, Angelita had started singing to herself at that time, blissfully ignoring the words that came out of his mouth. He spoke of Gloria and the Garrett sister, how much he wanted to piss off the King and a laundry list of other things.

Adam had injected himself with a dose of Med-X that had been mixed with something to make it more potent. The pain, sans the occasional sharpness, was tolerable.

He was as high as a kite and didn't realize it.

"You know what we're gonna do, Angelita?" This was the first time he actively sought her attention. He tapped her shoulder, not realizing she was in the middle of song. "We're gonna go say hello to the sheriff and his wife, okay?"

She sighed and nodded.

Then whipped her head around. "No."

"We're gonna have to see him eventually, I'll behave."

"No, we shouldn't."

Protesting was useless. All of the caution and discipline that had gotten them this far were on a lunch-break. Adam was acting on any little impulse and there was no way her words would be heeded. Angelita could do nothing but follow.

Adam was beginning to come down from his high when he reached the sheriff's door and began to knock. He was still smiling like a fool trying to anticipate what his reaction to be to see him strutting back into town after the last episode.

With no answer coming from the door Adam raked his knuckles against it again. And again. And again. Sure, it was early, but the sheriff was usually up by now and his wife would have been home. A casual shrug and he tried the door. It gave way without a fuss.

"Anybody home?" Adam poked his head around and his eyes fell upon the two bodies. They were set neatly on the bed beside one another, headless.

He stepped inside completely and brushed his palm across the top of his head while he moved towards the bed and stared down over the corpses. The heads were nowhere to be found but he didn't need them to recognize the two victims. His eyes stared to the point where Angelita began to worry. She had gotten one look and it proved to be enough for her, morbid curiosity would not be rearing its ugly head.

Eventually, Adam looked around the room and found the sheriff's duster; it wasn't the same make as his own but it'd be enough for him to repair his own. His inner scavenger took over and he began to look around the room for supplies that he'd be able to take with him. For once, it bothered him. Taking useful items off of the dead was a part of life for someone who wasn't attached to one particular community, but even still he didn't feel all too comfortable taking the items. In the end it was only a box of .308 rounds that he took with him.

"Angelita?" Adam turned to find that she was no longer in the sheriff's office. "Where you'd go?"

No response.

Taking off sent a jolt of pain through his body—he'd need to take another dose of med-x or see a doctor soon. Upon bursting through the door the rush of relief became intermingled with surprise. Angelita was standing there, almost exactly where she had been when he stepped inside first, but there was a man in front of her, hands on his hips sporting a prison uniform.

"What exactly are you two doing in my office?"


	9. Albatross

A DATE BEFORE THIS ADVENTURE

Silver Rush, Freeside

Adam stood off to the side, watching all the Van Graff muscle filter out of the Silver Rush. He was a few minutes early for a meeting with Gloria and had spent the time sharing stories about his conquests in the Mojave. The door guard, young, was entertained by the stories, especially as they began to mention women closer to where they were. However, once the stories began to mention Gloria his interest waned. His boss' name combined with the killers that were stepping outside didn't seem like a good combination while Adam was describing how nasty she could be. There was a silent acknowledgement of this, one that made Adam quiet until one of the men addressed him.

"She's waiting on you."

"She sound excited?" Adam threw his hips hand before they could respond. "I know, I know. She says it never happened, right?"

"Right, he fought off a smile."

They liked Adam. Laughing at his jokes only came with the knowledge that Gloria would not find out about it. He was a welcomed break from the incessant attention to detail that their employer practiced on a regular basis.

"Trust me," Adam was halfway through the door. "It happened."

The store was guarded by a skeleton crew. A well armed skeleton crew, but a skeleton crew all the same. Gloria waved Adam over with a business smile tattooed into her face. He knew that face. It meant that she wanted him to do something dirty and didn't quite trust the in-house help enough to get it down without a certain amount of screw ups.

"I thought you didn't want to see me ever again." Adam sat at the corner of the display which Gloria stood behind. "Times change, eh?"

"I find myself in need of a specific skill set." Gloria was monotone. "You're the most cost efficient.

"I'm the cheapest?"

"You're the cheapest." She flashed a genuine smile.

"Right" Adam put his hands together and rubbed. "So which itch do you need me to scratch? The murdering one?"

"That would be the one." Gloria shifted back into business mode. "They'll brief you outside, I just needed to be sure that you were all there."

"I don't think so."

"Excuse me?"

"You want me to run with the boys? That's fine." Adam stood and leaned in to face Gloria. "But I'm not going to take orders from the shit-for-brains muscle you hire to walk around a fucking store all day carrying expensive weapons."

Gloria stood silent, arms folded beneath her breasts.

"So, either you give me the rundown yourself or you're going to have to let the swinging dick brigade out there fuck up another job."

"You're a real piece of work, Adam."

"Do you know why I cost you so little, Gloria?"

"Because you want to fuck me?"

He smirked. "It's because I enjoy it Gloria. It makes my dick harder than hearing Mrs or seeing a wedding ring."

Gloria let an audible sigh loose.

"So, again, unless you want some chronic fuck up handling your business I suggest you start opening that mouth of yours and spitting out information."

The man was grating when he wanted to be. They both knew that she could nod her head and he'd be a pile of dust on the floor, but that wouldn't happen. She needed him for this and likely a dozen other jobs afterward. The fact of the matter was the bastard always managed to come through – or at least not screw things up as badly as others did.

"Fine," She cleared her throat. "You know about the competition with all of the caravans don't you? It's gotten pretty rough out there as of late. The old McLafferty lady decided she'd rather not use up all of her resources so she came to us. Do you understand now? Is this something you had to hear from my mouth?"

Adam shrugged. "The targets?"

"Cassidy Caravans, Durable Dunn's and Griffin Wares."

One of them was familiar to him. He didn't mention it. "Okay."

"Do you care how it looks?" Adam added.

"No, she's not paying enough for that."

Adam lingered, waiting to see if Gloria would give in to some hidden desire to punch him square in the face. It didn't happen. He blew her a kiss. She didn't react. That was the end of their exchange. He walked out of the building to the group of men and they departed together.

"You know," One of the swinging dicks spoke up. Adam nicknamed him minuteman in his head. "One of the guys brought up you and Gloria the other day."

"Yeah?"

"Yep," Minuteman stared down over the road, bored. "He went into all of the nasty details you usually do."

"Not a good idea."

"That's what I was thinking, but he was drunk as all hell."

Adam kept his answers short. "Sounding extra stupid."

"Exactly." Minuteman took his eyes off of the road and pulled his plasma rifle into his lap. "Everybody knows there are just some things that you don't talk about, but he just kept running his mouth."

"Kind of like now." Adam muttered.

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

"Oh. Well, Gloria did him right then and there." Minuteman used his hands for extra emphasis.

"Was she screaming?"

"Nope."

"Was she really into?"

"Uh, I guess not."

"Moaning?"

"Nope." Minuteman did a double take. "Wait, what?"

"And here I thought this story would have some pay off." Adam's attention had already shifted elsewhere; his eyes had always been on the road but his mind was in a different place. The ambush was supposed to take place an hour ago. "Are you guys sure this is the road?"

"This is the one Gloria gave us."

As much as Adam didn't think much of their ability to think on their feet, the 'swinging dick brigade' members were efficient killers. It was hard not to be with the weapons and armor they carried. There was a reason that when anyone walked into the Silver Rush they left with their pants down around their ankles and Gloria had a smile.

"There we go." Adam set his sights far down the road and laid his eyes on the slow moving caravan. "Tell your friends I've got eyes on."

Minuteman did what he was told.

The caravan, Cassidy's, moved at such a leisurely pace that Adam was tempted to engage them from extreme range. He fought a winning back with resistance on the rooftop and waited until the small caravan engaged the Van Graff muscle in dialogue. He imagined to what they were saying.

"Odd seeing you well armed gentlemen blocking the road." The caravaneer would open up with. He would probably be the trusting sort. Who else would continue on a road blocked by armed men?

"Well, you see," Tallfornothing—that was the nickname Adam gave him—began to explain. "We're here to make sure you go out of business today."

"For shame." Dismayed, the caravaneer would go on. "But my boss isn't even here?"

"Well where is the lady?"

He'd shrug. "I don't know."

Adam had begun to form a complex narrative in his head that was full of drama and plot twists when the entire group of Van Graffs began to discharge their weapons simultaneously. The flurry of laser fire reduced the caravneer to ashes in a matter of seconds before they turned their eyes on the brahmin tugging a supply cart. The creature received a more ceremonious end with a single shot to the head. They were certainly good at pulling the trigger. The group began to make a mess of the scene, pushing over the cart and rummaging through the crates.

"Class acts." Adam thought aloud.

"Would you rather they tell him he's about to die so he can shoot himself instead?"

True enough. He was cut down in seconds, there was probably only a half second of realization before he was dead. Most people weren't lucky enough to have that quick of an end. With his rifle slung over hi s shoulder Adam began to make his way down the rope they'd use to climb up to the roof. Minuteman followed.

By the time Adam reached the remains of the caravan anything worthwile had already been gone through. The caravaneer wouldn't have had a chance to do anything even if he had the knowledge that he was going to be ambushed beforehand. It was a wholesale slaughter and not even the brahmin was spared when the dust cleared.

"Could've left a few mines on the road and get the job done," Adam cleared his throat and spat on the side of the road. "Why are we here, again?"

Minuteman shrugged. "You're getting paid, what do you care?"

Again, Minuteman appeared to be much smarter than the rest of his friends.

Adam shrugged and kicked open a crate to see if there was anything worth salvaging; when caps were tight you took whatever you could get, even if that meant collecting rusty cans.

"I don't." A delayed response.

The second stop was largely the same as the first. The swinging dick brigade had no problems unloading on an unprepared caravan. While Adam was further annoyed at the lack of anything remotely resembling a worthy target, he went on to the third location with the rest of the men. Two groups formed, Adam and Minuteman with the rest of the group standing twenty feet ahead of them. They stayed this way until they reached the third location.

"What was it that Gloria said to you?" Minuteman hadn't been quiet for more than five minutes the entire trip. "I mean, you probably could've done this by yourself, why come out with all of us?"

Adam shrugged. "Good caps are good caps, that's all you really need to know about it."

"Maybe…"

Minuteman was cut off while Tallfornothing turned around and called out to them. "We're setting up shop here."

"Ugly spot." Adam returned.

"Yeah, well," He shrugged. "This isn't the spot; we're just waiting for someone else here."

Waiting for someone else? They'd been instructed to divulge everything to him or as it became clear, everything Gloria wanted him to know. The group gathered between two wooden bridges and started a fire, night was coming.

"Anyone in particular?"

"How about the Garret sister?" Another nameless thug. "How'd you manage that one with the brother always being around the place?"

"She wanted it more than I wanted the notch on my belt?"

"Bullshit she did." Tallfornothing interrupted. "That bitch is as cold as ice all day, every day."

"Well. I'm sure she was so taken aback by your charm that she couldn't quite find the words for you." Adam grinned.

The group laughed at Tallfornothing's expense.

"I didn't even know she had a boyfriend, she's always working—running the business, how does find the time for a guy?" Minuteman asked.

"Don't know. She brought it up while we were talking."

"Maybe she just said it because she knows how you get over women with attachments to other guys." Adam named this one brains.

"Maybe." Adam acknowledged him. "I was too busy looking elsewhere to look into it."

The conversation revolving around the women Adam had been with went on for an hour before anyone in the group realized it. Most of the time was spent discussing Primm and how he had managed to not get his head blown off after sticking it to the Sheriff's wife. The visitor arrived at the tail end of the story.

"That's the problem with women married to law enforcement and soldiers," Adam paused to finish off his water. "They don't realize they're married to every crook and war their husband comes cross or goes off to fight."

As the newest member of the group walked up the swinging dick brigade shifted their attention from Adam to greet him. Their sudden turn to pleasantries to acknowledge who appeared to be nothing more than a crimson caravan guard stuck with him, although when it came time for him to give a handshake he obliged the man. His grip was weak; a universally frowned upon trait. The feeling that if they weren't wearing gloves his hands would be moist could not be shaken, this man was a liability through and through.

Adam leaned over to Minuteman and whispered. "Who the fuck is that?"

"That's uh," Minuteman scratched at his head. "McLafferty's nephew or something like that. Was itching for action so she's tagging along for the last one."

"Great."

The nephew, as Adam dubbed him, was the overly excited type. All he needed to do was sit back and not point is gun in the wrong direction and everything would take care of itself. The problem was that he wasn't going to sit back and let the professionals handle everything. He wanted to get out in front, scream and fire off as many rounds as he could before the smoke cleared, but he wanted to do it against a target that wasn't going to have the opportunity to shoot back. He'd probably carry the story back to his friends and brag about all of the kills he'd managed to get.

The night dragged on and Adam no longer felt like sharing any of his stories, not with the nephew trying to inject his own brand of humor. There was nothing more uncomfortable than a nervous laugh than someone telling jokes who didn't realize that the laughs were in fact nervous.

Sleep came sooner than expected. Adam didn't stray from the warmth of the fire. He slept with one hand on his pistol and the other on his knife. Eventually, the entirety of the swinging dick brigade followed suit. Adam was a light sleeper, the rest of the men weren't.

The sound of a brahmin approaching caused Adam to stir. The rest of the men were still asleep, they hadn't posted a sentry. A grenade struck the dirty in the middle of the camp. Adam shot up and yelled, the men woke, some snapped to attention others fought off the grogginess of sleep.

Adam lunged for the grenade and threw it back in the direction it came. It struck the brahmin and went off. Groaning, the creature slid down the minor decline and began to die. Nephew scrambled, Minuteman grabbed his rifle and Tallfornothing grabbed his throat.

Tallfornothing was dying, blood drenching his fingertips while it squeezed through the cracks—his hand would never be tight enough to stop the bleeding. The opposition was close enough to warrant the use of a pistol, Adam never bothered to grab his rifle. Nephew was panicking, unsure of where to point his gun; he aimed at Adam—the only man on their side that wasn't wearing black armor like the Van Graffs.

Adam shot first, twice, sending Nephew tumbling back—he died before he hit the ground, the 10mm bullets punched through his heart. The men were already c leaning up the ambush when they realized what had happened. Piles of ash, bodies and the albatross that would eventually be fixated around Adam's neck covered the campsite.

_Great_.


End file.
